This Abyss
by hippiechick2112
Summary: Logan returned to New York to find the school taken over by Trask and the X-Men disbanded. With the help of Danielle Mitchell Ellis, he now needs to find the means to free the surviving members and to take the next step in saving the mutants and humans. Story two of "Unspoken".
1. That July Day

**This Abyss**

**Note and Disclaimer: I obviously don't own anything from _X-Men_, but the extra characters are obviously mine. This is the second story of two (so far) of the series, "Unspoken". I'm trying to make a prelude of sorts to new movie _Days of Future Passed_ and a sequel to _The Wolverine_, so I'm hoping it would be as true to that as to the series itself, especially after the awesomeness of the last movie. Thank you so much!**

* * *

**July 29, 2007**

They all had been ready for days. Granted, it had been years since the battles had begun and the lines had been drawn in the sand (especially after the incident in San Francisco and the aftermath from Magneto's attack and Jean's death at Logan's hands), but the dangers had increased as the past became the present and then the future. Daily, they had waited for the moment when they would come, continuing their studies as planned normally. Daily, as the time ticked ever so slowly and the children became nervous and ready at their escape stations while books remained abandoned in their classrooms, they knew that it would begin again and that they would be put to the test. And soon, that test was to come.

Ororo Munroe and Danielle Mitchell Ellis, along with Hank McCoy, stood at the ready when all hope faded as time soon ran out, as the months without Xavier turned to something akin to a ship without a captain and the time without Logan seemed like a team without strength. Besides them on their daily watches by the gates though were former students graduated, now adults, those who were soon to be part of the X-Men team: Rogue, Bobby Drake, Devon Williamson and Kitty Pryde. They watched their footing constantly, turning their powers to every crunch of grass, every shadow that crossed their paths. They chased away men who meant them every harm, men that already were dragging other mutants to the camps created. They proved their mettle, but the ultimate battle was yet to be fought.

They would see it coming, but were helpless to prevent it. However, it was their turn to stand guard and be the protector, just as many before had been.

And they knew that many were gone as the government turned itself to its former ignorance and chaos and let itself be led by madness. News filtered daily about the "dangerous" mutants being dragged to camps, drugged by the machines that Trask Industries had created so long ago. Soon though, the machines turned on humans without mutant powers too, those who passed the gene to their children. They also saw internment, prison time for nothing they did wrong. Affairs between families who saw this unfairness turned to more hatred. They fought harder to get them freed, but to no avail.

The spiral was still churning. Resistance was rare. Trask finally had won.

That July day, when all hope seemed to have failed, had been still. The hot air had been filtering around New York for some time now and there was no relief. The children had been extremely uncomfortable in hiding on the ground level under the mansion, far from the dangers outside and away from their guardians now on the prowl. They had been camping there, passing small food supplies and water back and forth, and awaiting the time in which their comfort would return, but they all had whispered of dying, of being taken away from the only home known in their short lives. While Danielle and Ororo tried their best to calm their fears, they too were held fast by the tight rope they walked on daily.

One day, they were going to fall. That day was upon them, they would soon learn.

Hank McCoy had spotted the first military trucks from his position, the first line of defense the school had left. Although old and tired of the fighting (being the diplomat that he was and actually good camouflage with his blue fur), he was not without vigor. At his seat in the highest tree at the gate, he looked down and whistled to Rogue in the bushes on the bottom. Rogue, who many found out was immune to poison ivy, had been assigned to bushes and other nature-like shrubbery until a time in which the others could adapt to their more outdoor settings…which didn't seem to be anytime soon, she found out. Many braved it, few left without a scratch.

Rogue looked up from her position and eyed each passing truck, her eyes still in her binoculars. "You seein' what I'm seein', sugar?" she hissed at Hank, trying not to stray her eyes from her own personal situation with Bobby and Kitty.

"Get ready," Hank only replied, jumping down from the tree with ease (causing some pain in his back) and landing next to Rogue. While the latter did not notice anything, she knew what to do.

As Rogue finally gave up her place in the bushes, Hank took over (knowing that Rogue would recruit Devon and then Bobby as the next line of defense), peering through the binoculars Rogue had left behind. Now, he figured, if the trucks had the right amount of weight to it, then the disabling bomb buried in the road (which had been added this morning by the younger group) would allow them time to regroup and fight the new men, not kill them.

_It had not been Charles' way._

Hank shuddered, trying not to cry for his old friend and how he valued life, mutant and human. Of course, Hank was glad that Xavier had not seen this day. Vaporized, for lack of a better word, by Jean Grey a few years ago, Xavier had been the driving force behind the school. While Hank believed, as Magneto did later, that the school's spine was held together by Xavier, Ororo Munroe took the headmistress role nicely. However, she was not the stuff Xavier was, rudderless as many had been and struggling to find her place as now head of a school full of mutants and two friends now dead because of the incident with Stryker at Alkali Lake.

Before long, before things in Hank's mind got out of hand, Danielle returned instead of Rogue. Now twenty-eight and bitter to the core, Danielle was one mean-fighting woman, Hank had to say. With now short reddish-white hair and stress lines and scars that lined her body in waves, Danielle was one of the few to have been tortured under the insidious scheming of her husband, Senator Leon Ellis, head of mutant affairs and rival to Hank McCoy in all ways including politically. Lost in her own musings since Logan had left her after Jean's death, Danielle had fought on to keep the school opened and to keep her children safe. While adapting Devon Williamson unofficially and keeping Michael and Riley closer than ever before, she was still the mother that nobody wanted to cross.

And Hank could already see that this was making her angry.

With her eyes turning blood red in fury, Danielle kneeled next to Hank and ducked her head. "Do we know who's in there?" she asked, taking the lenses from Hank and taking a closer peek at the trucks.

"No, but I have the feeling that Trask is here," Hank replied.

This made Danielle pause, lowering the binoculars as her hazel eyes returned. "Why?"

"Who else would be here, Danielle? They've been the ones sending the men and arms. They control the camps. Who else would it be?"

Hank almost felt energy pulsating from Danielle as her irritation grew, but he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. This calmed her, but it would not be enough to tame the hot-tempered woman. He knew what she was thinking. Military trucks meant that somebody close to them was coming. The only company who used them was Trask, who had been on the hunt for mutants for some time now. And the people involved with both Track and the military were her husband and his cousin and wife, Leon and Peter Ellis and Mary Belkin-Ellis.

Danielle sat up. "Anything we can do now?"

"Well, any attack now would be suicide," Hank deduced quickly. "Rogue was sent back to warn everyone to stand up and fight, but I am not sure whether or not diplomacy would be key to avoiding this new battle about to come."

"You know, diplomacy was not on your strong point ten years ago," Danielle teased, relishing a moment long ago she had with Hank…for one insane night many years ago. "Why use it now? It hasn't gotten you anywhere, Hank. I don't think it will now."

"Yes, well…"

"Admit it, Hank. There is a time and a place for a good fight."

There was a twinkle in Danielle's eyes that Hank had not seen in a long time, not since Jean and Scott died and Logan had up and disappeared. She was teasing him most definitely, yes, but the time and place was almost comical to Hank. Indeed, the sparkle he had seen (and had vanished just as fast) was nothing compared to her former happiness with Logan (who Hank resolved to figure out how to kill when he sees the mutant next), but it was a start to something joyful. It was wonderful to see even Danielle think of something silly in a time like this.

Indeed, there may be hope after all.

Just as suddenly as Danielle's smile occurred, she got up and was in a defensive stance. Taking two small knives out of nowhere (Hank knowing her love of knives and her expertise in them), she aimed and hit a few targets behind Hank, groans easily heard from guards. When he looked to see what happened, startled at the change, he saw that two men in uniform were behind him…and were posed to kill him had Danielle not seen them. Now, they were dead instead of Hank, knives sticking out of their foreheads.

"Let's get out of here," Danielle quickly proposed, taking Hank by the hand and running without their precious binoculars or her knives. While Hank let go of her hand and was running on his own, he saw that she was slowing down. While barely any food and water toughened Danielle in sacrifice, it also dehydrated her, allowing her reflexes to decline.

By the time the two reached the mansion minutes later, however, they stopped. In front of them, a long line of men stood in front of the doorway. All had their guns pointed at the pair or were holding it to the heads of the mutants that were standing guard at the doors. While Bobby, Kitty and Rogue remained as calm as possible and barely held a fight (Kitty even sported a new bruise on her face), Devon struggled with his captor, earning a displeasing ending for sure and a rifle butt to his face. Ororo was nowhere to be seen except by a van, gagged and tied.

Out of the line of soldiers by the mansion door, Leon Ellis swiftly appeared. Wearing the same uniform as the others, except this from his days in Vietnam from long ago, and carrying nothing more than a shiny Trask device, he stood in front of Hank and Danielle. Turning his new toy on (and many could see that it was one to Ellis), he easily disabled the mutants, dropping them to the ground in agony, as if something was torturing them.

"Ah, that's better," Ellis said, motioning to two men to pick up Danielle and Hank. While the latter was taken away with the others, Danielle was stood in front of her husband. When Ellis turned off the device, she was back to normal and standing on her own.

"What do you want from us, Leon?" Danielle spit out, venom in her eyes. "We've done no harm. We've left humanity alone. Mutants have been quiet, even Magneto. Why now?"

"Because, Danielle, it is not easy to forget that night at Alcatraz," Ellis answered, eying her left middle finger, which held a simple ring given to her by Logan some years ago. "Don't you remember it now? You were there, I saw, almost getting killed in the attack had you not ably shielded yourself and a few other younger mutants. You fought against Magneto, helping to get Logan to the other side, and tried to get to your precious friend, Jean Grey, who proved to be dangerous after all. Then, you saw your little lover kill her off with those adamantium claws of his, realizing that he still loved her too, even after his blind eyes went over to you. And he left you, poor little you…"

"That's not true!" Inside though, Danielle was screaming. The agony of those days and the grief behind those graves, the helplessness she felt with Logan…there was nothing more she could do but to hide her doubts. "Jean had been thought dead at Alkali Lake!"

Ellis put his device away. Taking out his gun from a side pocket, he stroked Danielle's chin with it, the barrel inches away from her eyes.

"I could have you shot," he whispered in her ear almost like a seductive lover. "I want you dead, but I know your powers."

Danielle wanted to laugh, like her brother had all those years ago, but did not sustain it. To keep alive, to keep her sanity even, especially for the children (her three in mind), she had to keep a cool head. Her previous outburst could have cost lives and not just her own too. It was already enough that Stryker was dead, as well as his men, and that damages were done. Mutants had a bad name these days and were being sent away. Now, she had a chance to help herself and others…and she was going to take it.

"You'll be alive, I can assure you of that," Ellis continued out loud, motioning for the same man to come back to take Danielle away. "Tell me where the children are and I'll make sure that they are comfortable at the camps and won't be killed. Resist now and Ms. Munroe will be the first to die instead of being a guest of Peter and Mary in their home."

Danielle was stuck now, the traitor once more, just as Scott Summers had named her some years ago. She looked at the others – Rogue, Devon, Bobby, Kitty, Ororo and Hank – and mouthed an apology to them all with everyone seeing it, her weakness in their eyes. She knew Ellis would stop it nothing to tear the building apart and find the children if she said no. He would love to see Michael and Riley dead, mutant children of his that Danielle would die for if necessary. He would take pleasure in seeing the others tortured and killed too.

Words tore up inside of Danielle, a mess of good and bad. Threats of going to hell would do no good. Memories best left in the dark were going to be dug up. Children were going to be killed, innocent or not. And now, she had no choice. It was do it or die trying.

Hank saved her though. Through his fatherly love her for (and for the love he had for the one night they slept together), he said before Danielle could, "They're below the mansion, Senator. I'm sure your wife will lead you there and they will come calmly. Let her get them first and we'll cooperate."

"Yes," Danielle added numbly, already moving in tune with the man now in charge of her and going to the front door. "Follow me."


	2. Prisoners

**August 2, 2007**

She had been a prisoner for some time now and did not know what day it was, only seeing food at the door, little privacy and sunshine and heat through a locked window. Indeed, as Danielle sat on her bed in her own farmhouse, in the same room she had known both joy and terror, she gazed lovingly at the children luckily left to her. Riley and Michael slept peacefully on her bed, snatching sleep that was now rare to the three. They missed their brother Devon, now old enough to automatically be taken away to a camp without hesitation, and had cried bitter tears that he was gone, when those soldiers ushered him into a truck along with the others. Danielle had too, for the lost boy she had calmed to the man he was soon becoming and the one who was there to help her in a great time of need.

It was morning, Danielle could tell. Carefully, she slipped off of the bed without waking the children, moving the window curtains aside to see the rising sun. She then closed her eyes, visions of the invasion from some time back moving through the closed lids. She saw the children getting rounded up as she led the soldiers underground, heard their screaming upon their rude arrival. She was left in a corner of the safe room, a gun to her head, as Ellis at the doorway ordered that all of them being taken away. Some of them resisted and paid with the ultimate price, left as a bloody example to the others. From then, the others followed like lost sheep, crying with fright as they came filing past her.

It was the first time in her life that Danielle sobbed in public. She slumped in that corner and could not stop the free flow of tears falling from her face.

It was through luck that she at least had Michael and Riley. Ellis brought them to her, the two hugging her closely when released to her. Michael, who was now nine years old, had already known of the dangers that mutants faced for some time now, guilty as Danielle was, but thankfully with hands not dipped in blood. Riley, on the other hand, was five and could hardly contain his emotions. While his older brother tried to remain calm, Riley had tears spilling down his face, just like his mother.

And now, taken personally by Ellis to the farmhouse under house arrest, one that they called home, the three had been locked in the bedroom together. Everything except for necessities, like clothes, a bedside lamp and some blankets and pillows, was taken away. When anyone needed to relieve themselves, a guard came by and walked them to and fro, leaving the door open, and then escorting them back to the bedroom, where they would be locked in once more. Conversations were being heard through the door, so Danielle kept the boys busy as she found things missed by Ellis, like a desk of cards, marbles or a puzzle. Already, they had exhausted several card games and were almost done putting the puzzle together. Riley had abandoned the marbles under the bed a day or two ago.

What happened to the other children was a mystery left unspoken of. Danielle was sure that they had been taken to the new camps as its youngest victims, but even she could not tell. For all she knew, they could have been killed and left on the side of the road. They could have been experimented on, like Trask seeks to do with those from the past. Hell, Danielle mused sadly as sunshine blinded her further through the closed eyes, they could be tortured for information they didn't have.

Danielle opened her eyes, sensing that something was going on behind her. Her ears perked up with interest. Footsteps were heard from the faraway stairwell, easing up through the hallway and stopping in front of her door. She heard some talking, muffled almost, and projected herself outside the door to see who it was.

It was her husband.

Ellis opened the door with little resistance, noting his sons were sleeping and that Danielle was awake, most likely spending another sleepless. He even noted with glee that she appeared to be defeated, even after all this time, and was depressed. He was especially surprised that she even allowed him to see her this far down a rabbit hole, willing to allow herself the luxury of emotion. Even on the night of her brother's death, she did not show her defeat, even through the tears in the death of a loved one. She did not even show tears when her mother committed suicide two months after Jayden Mitchell's death. She was brave, usually hopeful for another good day.

Now, it was gone. And with it, there went the faith that Xavier had bestowed upon her so many years ago.

"Good, they're sleeping," Ellis began, closing the door behind him. He made sure to let Danielle see the sidearm under his jacket.

"Good that they don't hear of your further betrayal," Danielle replied tartly, holding back her sarcasm. "Isn't it enough that they know your hatred to them? They are _children_, for God's sake, Leon. Leave the children out of this."

"Children grow to men, Danielle," Ellis said gravely, walking closer to her position at the window and holding her wrists in a death-like lock without resistance. "Men take on the causes in which was given to them as children. Men take up arms and _kill_ the people who know better."

Then, almost like magic, Ellis reached in for a kiss. Passionately giving Danielle the love in which Ellis thought she did not deserve, his kiss was almost part hatred and love at the same time. It was known to Danielle that Ellis admired her. It was not as an enemy, but for lust. Ever since he had seen her grown into a woman, Ellis had desired to possess her and make her his wife, but it could only be achieved through violent means. And those means were controlling her and to make her halt her plans, the same in which would foil his.

It had been love at first sight, Ellis admitted to himself, but it could only last for so long…

Just as suddenly as the kiss started, it ended. With a jerk, Ellis pulled away from Danielle's stiff lips and pushed her forcefully, laughing to himself as her head hit the corner of a desk chair planted there some time ago. While Danielle rubbed her head, reducing her exclamations of pain to nothing more than a simple and brief whimper, Ellis stood over her, triumph in his new victory.

"You witch," Ellis said, hissing it like a snake. "You bewitched me from the start."

"I did nothing," Danielle protested, standing up by herself to face Ellis proudly. "I did nothing of the sort. I loved another, many more than you, and they loved and respected me…_me_, one of the most sexually promiscuous women at Phineas Teller's bar. And I found somebody who loved me for who I am, even if his demons chased him away from me. I _hate_ you, Leon. _Hate_ you for all you've done and all that you'll do in the future, the bully that you are. The only good thing you've ever given me was the children and even then, you've tried killing them and taking the joy out of my world. Logan was the better man than you, a better father to the children than you ever will be, even if many called him an animal unfit to be amongst the living."

With the insults so clear, Ellis slapped Danielle. While her head whipped back for a moment, she regained herself and stared back at him. She even ignored the blood now raining down from her nose, scratched from the rings Ellis wore.

"I will _not_ be offended like that, even from my wife," Ellis declared, causing the two boys to start to stir. "I can see already that there is nothing more that I can do for you, Danielle. You're a doomed woman. And I'll be sure to find a way to kill you without your permission. I'll torture Riley and Michael until you've exhausted your motherly tears. I'll let you watch them die, knowing that your turn will be next."

"Leon –"

"Then, when their bodies are thrown into a grave, you'll be next, you little bitch. Then, you will regret all that you've done. You tried killing me. I gave you a chance when we married, but mutant children seem to follow me, dead or alive. You surrounded me with your inability to be perfect, including the children. Then, you decided to run away and use your mutant powers to keep me from achieving my dreams."

"Leon, not –"

"Afterward, you killed William Stryker, a good American and a man of the people. Then, to make matters worse, you decide to march onward to Alcatraz to seize this cure, one in which would have made you faultless in every way, but even that was destroyed and, with it, the solution to your problems. Even cleaning up San Francisco, you persuaded people that not all mutants were harmful like Magneto. You tried changing the office of Mutant Affairs with Hank McCoy soon afterward, to make it 'more fair' for you. And now, in the years we've been separated, you _still_ work against me. You denied that your true self is less than perfect, but you still don't understand the simple concept of humanity. _Mutants are dangerous!_"

Ellis had yelled the final statement, finally waking the boys up. Michael and Riley had lain still, aware that one wrong move could mean something worse. Danielle noticed them awake too, but said nothing. She could not deny that mutants can be dangerous without control or reason, but then again, so can humans. And they've proven that long before mutants became an issue.

"Prove me wrong," Danielle challenged, seeing the conviction in Ellis' eyes. "Prove to me that mutants are dangerous."

Ellis slapped Danielle again, but she did not stagger. "I shouldn't need to explain history you to, Danielle. It explains itself."

"There are exceptions," she begged, finally staunching the blood from her face with her shirt. "There are mutants out there who are not like Magneto and who believe in peace."

"A good mutant is a dead mutant," Ellis declared, refusing to listen. "Just like a good Vietcong member is one best dead."

"You're mad," Danielle said, seeing no rational thoughts in Ellis' mind. "You've lost your senses."

"I doubt it, but then again, this would be coming from the mouth of a madwoman and a murderess." Ellis seemed to close his mind to Danielle, as if he had powers of his own. "Your comeuppance will arrive sooner than you think, Danielle. Just wait and see. Tomorrow will be a day in which you will _never_ forget."

Ellis then called for the guard to open the door. When it was unlocked for the senator, he turned to make one last glance at his wife. Danielle, who refused to acknowledge Ellis any longer, turned away herself, trying hard not to scream when her overwhelming emotions took a ride suddenly, taking in the sting of rejection from her husband. It was a nightmare already, and one that she wouldn't want her children to be in. When she only flickered her inner anguish to Ellis, he stopped, indifferent to her needs.

"Be prepared for a trip tomorrow," Ellis added, his only instructions to her. "You and Ms. Munroe will experience the journey of a lifetime."

When the door finally closed and the guards went back to eavesdropping, Danielle flung herself on the bed, wrapping her arms around Michael and Riley as the blood from her nose flowed freely on her pillow, away from the boys. The children opened their eyes when feeling their mother and curled together closer, attempting to find safety in Danielle's arms. Slowly though, the two realized that she was also in danger, just as they are, and was fighting to keep them alive for as long as she could.

Even then, Michael was seeing that, as he remained silent about the exchange, the fight was still ongoing. And it wasn't going to end until they were dead.

"Momma," Riley whined softly, "when?"

Danielle did not know what Riley meant by the question, so pulled him and Michael closer to her, sensing a long day ahead already. "Whatever will happen tomorrow, you two, I want you to know that I will protect you. I love you and will never let you down."

All the while, as the endless day turned into another long night, Danielle thought of Logan. In the two or so years since he had been gone, she thought of him daily and wondered where he was. Sometimes, even in the dead of night, when all was asleep and she was alone in bed, she cried for the love lost between them and the anguish they both experienced after Alcatraz. She still loved him, no matter what, and sometimes wished that he was there to comfort her.

Because, as Danielle closed her eyes and buried her face into the pillow of dried blood, she realized that she too needed soothing.


	3. Drowning in the Sea

**The Next Day**

Danielle, Michael and Riley had been bound and gagged, blinded to the daylight, when the time came for them to leave the bedroom and to go on their journey outside. Led by their captors to a vehicle waiting just beside the porch, the three obeyed and sat down where they were supposed to. By then, when they were on the go, their gags and blinds had been taken off, but their arms were still restricted. Michael and Riley seemed too far away for Danielle to comfort and were next to guards opposite of her, but next to her was somebody she thought never to see again.

"Storm," Danielle greeted quietly, seeing defeat on the once proud face that used to smile at each student personally at the school's doors.

"Danielle," Ororo said, almost in a pleading voice. "I'm glad to see you."

Danielle could have voiced the same sentiment, but their every word was being listened to. She only smiled in reply, closing her eyes to the streaming sun coming through the back window. The truck they were in lurched back and forth with each pothole reached from the farmhouse onward, causing the children to moan as the handcuffs they were in twisted their wrists like they were common criminals. Even Ororo grunted in pain. When Danielle opened her eyes to see her pain, she saw that Ororo had been beaten, most likely from Peter Ellis' men. Bruises lined her face, but her nails seemed to be dirty, like she had not cleaned them in days. On further inspection, Danielle saw dried blood underneath them.

_That coward! Leaving a woman to fight without her powers and using the most human way possible!_

It was then that Danielle realized the gravity of their situation, the nightmare in which she had tried to avoid for some time. With her and Ororo going someplace special, she thought a certain fate awaited them, almost as bad as the others going to camps were. She thought Ellis' words to have a ring of truth to them finally. It was a threat he meant to carry out except he and Peter were now dragging Ororo (of all people) into the line of fire, along with her and the children.

Ororo saw Danielle's concern. Rather than allowing pity and guilt to part with Danielle, she looked to her friend and said, "Courage."

When Ororo managed to wiggle her fingers out of her restrain and rest them on Danielle's hand, she saw that Danielle was trying to contain her tears. When one slipped out uncontrollably down her shirt, almost like it was the week before, Ororo had no other words to say, nothing else to comfort those who needed it, just as she had. Instead, she rested her head on Danielle's shoulder innocently enough, wishing for the ride to be over and to know what the next step would be.

After all, being a prisoner of Peter and Mary Ellis had taught Ororo many things, the most important being that there was no certain ending. She would, like Danielle had all this time, need to ride the waves, to see what would come of it, instead of drowning in the sea of hatred.

~00~

When the truck had reached its destination two hours later, the foursome were herded out by the guards and were led immediately to an open field with little hills and almost no trees or other forms of nature life. Cars and trucks lined the dusty roads and pathways, making escape with no chance of success. Thousands of people were also standing there, all of them staring at the group with hatred in their eyes. All of them held anti-mutant signs. Some even posed a mock lynching and hanging of a mutant in a quickly assembled platform of their own, a noose wrapped around the dummy's head.

Danielle, Ororo, Michael and Riley had their bounds released as they were pushed ahead and were free to walk amongst the people. However, the closer they got to their final resting place, the worse Danielle felt. In her mind, images raced. Danger was about. There was no way of turning back, especially when she realized what it was.

It was a political rally. In front of them was a platform, almost like the one mocking them from below. It was there that Senator Ellis stood, readying himself for a speech. With him were Peter Ellis and his wife, Mary Belkin-Ellis, and some bodyguards designated to make sure all was well and nobody on the outside was allowed in. All looked to the mutants, as if they had been waiting for them for some time.

Ororo and Danielle did not speak to each other, the latter not daring to use her powers to talk through the mind. Instead, each took a child's hand (Danielle with Michael and Ororo with Riley) and led them up the stairs, still obeying their guards, and stopped next to Leon Ellis, who was pleased to see them. On cue, as if their arrival was the spark to start the anti-mutant rally (and their captors' guns raised in a salute), Ellis began in a booming voice, asking for attention. When silence prevailed, he then began to speak again, this time in a more forceful tone.

"My fellow Americans," Ellis started with pride, "today, we stand on the threshold of a dream. A life without fear, a life where your family can be safe walking down the street, and a life without injustice…this is what we've been hoping for in these many years of struggle. Now, this day, I stand before you and say that, yes, I can assist you in achieving this new dream."

Ororo soon handed Riley over to Danielle because he needed his mother. She took the children into her arms, shielding them with her body, their faces into her chest Ororo too stepped closer to protect the children left to them. A speech like this from Danielle's husband was not going to end well and she preferred mother and children to have the support they needed.

"All of us can say," Ellis continued, looking appreciative at the blank bullet gun salute in his honor, "that the mutant problem has frightened our lives and tantalized our imaginations for as long as we've known them. Their powers can amaze, but scare us. Some can, let's say, walk through walls, control metal or even take away our free will, one that was given to us by God and God alone. That's right – some can control our minds. How safe would it be to let them be free, let them hold onto the same rights as our purely human children?"

"Down with the mutants!" a woman in front yelled, throwing some garbage at Danielle and Ororo. "Kill them all!"

"Yes, _yes_, down with those mutants!" Ellis agreed, nodding to the woman with the obvious insult. "With them around, there is no safety for us humans. For thirty years or more, most of us in Congress have introduced a bill that would assist us – The Mutant Registration Act – and one in which would ensure where any and all live, allowing us to see names, addresses and contact information. It has thankfully just passed last year after so much time past and being held back by those who don't see the threats. Now, we can all see the dangers that would be readily shown on any police department kiosk. It will be on the internet too, on the Mutant Registration pages, for all to see. Any unusual crimes can be matched up to a registered mutant too, eliminating the search for shoplifters and ghosts, in case human abilities cannot have done the crimes."

With the mentions of ghosts, Ellis took a quick glance at Danielle, one that too vicious to miss.

"Their human names will be recorded," Ellis then declared out loud, "and their little mutant nicknames taken away. It is not their identity. They should not be hiding behind a name which declares their powers. As citizens of the United States I should hope, they will submit themselves to the scrutiny, as a safety precaution to others.

"Centers will be built to hold the most dangerous, conditions varying to each mutant. As a proud contributor of Trask Industries, who has made this happen in recent years, you can now be assured by me, who has helped with the research, that all technology can hold a mutant and all can be admitted. Families can drop off their children there at any time. The new Cure, which has been improved from the original and not mutant based, is offered to all, so that they can be released to the public, to live as humans and to be secure. Even as I speak, another, _better _center is now rising from the ashes, the true phoenix that will live again. It will even rise to the depths of your souls."

It was then that Ellis finally turned his attention to Danielle and Ororo. While he was more interested in his wife, Ellis had plans to see Ororo Munroe humiliated and sent away, never to be seen alive again. That, of course, would come later in his speech.

"Here with me now is my wife, the former Danielle Mitchell, and our sons, Michael and Riley," Ellis announced to the cheering crowds, now satisfied with the news of the camps and becoming more excited. "Here will be the first family to go to the new center, years ago created in the imagination and now a reality. This same mutant, who has entrapped me in marriage since 1998, has also brought forth two more powerful mutants which are of no importance to me. And _how_ has she done this, you ask? Her powers, that is!"

The cheers became louder.

"You see, she is a _powerful_ mutant," Ellis continued, explaining the situation to the crowds as if they were children. "She can read minds and sometimes move objects. She can bring someone through their memories, including her own, but she cannot change time or what happened. She can choose, at any time, to live or die, until death claims her. She can even make herself _invisible_ and turn her eyes red. Now, what can she do with some of these powers, you might ask too?

"I'll tell you! With invisibility, she can run undetected anywhere to commit something illegal like, let's say, robbing a bank or assassinating an important government figure. She can plant weapons without being seen or learn the layouts of historical buildings without anyone knowin she was there. With her mind, our God-given free will has disappeared again. And memory hopping? Does _God_ himself allow us humans to see the past except in their own minds? _No_!

"I tell you, my good people, with these centers, this risk is gone! With Trask technology, this woman and her sons will be neutralized and taught to be human or they can die trying to be themselves, a sign of their sins. Mutants will be sent to be trained and rehabilitated like those in prison. The Cure will be offered to them, I say again! With this done, they will be set free, when we are satisfied with their good, Christian works! And all those that stay behind will continue to learn the meaning of what a safe America should, could and _will_ be!"

It was at this last sentence that all hell seemed to have broken loose. The people in the crowds went from cheering and throwing their signs, hats and everything else in the air with jubilation. Some other continued to aim their garbage at Danielle and Ororo, shouting out obscenities and threats of death. The two shielded the boys from the worst of it, but could not stop them from aiming their missiles without using their powers, which would have made everything worse.

It was then that the two adults realized what was happening. Ellis was not taking them to the rally for the fun of it and to be humiliated by the hate. He was making an example out of them out. He was allowing the crowds to see them for who they really were and was anxious to see them riled up in order to use their so-called dangerous powers. Worse, he was even using the children in a battle to keep his political career alive.

Ororo exchanged a worried glance with Danielle, also seeing Ellis jumping with excitement along with the crowds and trying to get his next message across. "Do you think we can make it?"

Danielle searched the sea of hostile faces, mouthing back to her, "If we make it out of here today, it will be a miracle. If we don't, at least we know that we went down trying."

Even then, Danielle searched through the lines of people with her mind, trying to find the hope in the madness, but found nothing more than gladness at their misery. She then closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on the hills around them, however few there were, and stopped in front of something strange…something that did not want to be seen. When she felt she was back on the platform, she turned her head to Ororo, horror on her face.

"There's somebody else here," Danielle said as everybody paid more attention to Ellis on her other side. "I don't know who yet, but he's there. And he's watching us."


	4. Assassination

With the realization of danger, much more so than what was in front of her, Danielle held onto her children tighter, trying in vain to comfort them as their heads dug into her body, their fingernails scratching her hand and then Ororo's when she reached over too. She had heard the speech before, she remembered as her mind searched for a rationalization. Leon had recited it downstairs the night before, over and over again, practicing his pitch and tone. The reality that his plans and laws had passed seemed to have excited him more, inciting him to declare it louder for Danielle's benefit.

_No._ That was not what was now frightening her right now, although Ellis' speech was spellbinding in its horrific way and stopped temporarily by the madness before them. _No_, it was the crowds coming in closer as they turned from the rowdy bystanders, almost like sheep with their dummies and mock hangings, until they cast themselves into the role of a mob. They closed in on her scent, the one of fear and anguish. They gathered in a circle, shorter and shorter, to her, Ororo and the children, their dark eyes appraising her, like it was her fault that she was born the way she was and that her children were made different because of her.

The yells grew louder. The obscenities were now being spat out with pure venom. The poison from long ago had leaked into their minds, madness gifted to them through the purposeless exercise they were enacting. They were against them without the help so desperately needed.

And Danielle was, for the first time in her life, powerless to stop it.

Michael dug his fingernails deeper in Danielle's arm, his head hiding in shame. Riley clung to her leg underneath her arms, whimpering in dread at the people disrespecting them. Both still could not understand the hate behind so many people and why it was such a mortal sin to be dissimilar from everybody else. Most of all, they could not comprehend why their own distant father – a remote figure to begin with and a politician with ambition most of all – denied his love and condemned them to a place of horrors without hesitation, like he could easily throw away a piece of paper to a fire.

To keep calmer, Danielle took a deep breath, sighing as her husband tried to rally the crowds and get them to silence for his continuing speech. Even if she did not believe like her husband in the Christian religions, she started praying to some unknown entity, some force that was just as invisible as she could be, that could hold out a hand and save them. She defended what was rightfully hers to keep, but her safety had been ransacked. She was a hostage, an example of what mutants could be, and she could not bear it any longer. She could no longer help herself and others and only wished to die.

It was then that Danielle thought of Logan, although she tried her hardest not to over the course of the time he had been gone. Over two years ago, after the battle at Alcatraz and the deaths of Jean and Scott, he started changing. It was little at first, fatigue from fighting keeping him on edge and sometimes irritable and in pain, like a hurt animal. But as time went on, he grew worse, plagued by nightmares that invited him to death and relived the same, haunting scenes over and over again. During the day, he was even weighed down, dragging through menial tasks like making sure students were in class on time or even subbing a study hall period. He even did not play with the children as he normally did when they lived together, listlessly tossing back a baseball to Michael and walking away in silence or handing Riley back to Danielle when it was too much to bear his weight.

One cold night, when Danielle was in a deep sleep, Logan left quite unexpectedly. Although he normally slept chastely with Danielle each night they were together, he managed to leave the mansion without detection with nothing except the clothes on his back. He left everything else behind, saying no word of farewell or writing a note of explanation. Even his leather jacket had stayed in the closet at the mansion, a symbol of the life he adapted to, a life he started to settle into comfortably before Alcatraz. He was with people like him, had gained the love of a woman who adored him and children who looked up to him. Now, it was all left behind in a closet at the farmhouse behind her husband's things, collecting dust and waiting for their owner to return and reclaim what was his, perhaps never.

_What had happened?_

For over two years, Danielle tried answering the question, but she had her suspicions. Mostly, she thought that Logan's problems were deeply rooted in his lost love of Jean, a rejection he probably had not gotten over, and the way she was killed, begging him so others can live. It would not have surprised Danielle, since Logan most likely still had feelings for Jean deep inside of himself, but for him to kill someone, someone thought to be dead already and mourned as such…Danielle could not imagine the anguish. Certainly, she was in shock that day at the jet, seeing Jean sacrifice herself to save them all, but she was powerless to stop her friend from suicide…and the powers that remained under the covers for so long and turned her into a Dark Phoenix. It was a phoenix that Danielle did not see coming either and one she thought was better buried than alive.

In hindsight, Logan would have thought that this charade now was getting too ridiculous and dramatic, Danielle reasoned, and would have put a stop to it before it went this far. He would have thought, just as the rest of them did, that the fight was not yet over, but that it was the beginning, the start of a new battle. Hell, Danielle was certain that, if Logan had stayed, he would have fought with her and the others, shuffling the older ones to their stations and training the younger ones to be still. She would not be where she was right now, trapped, scared and wishing for death. He would be there.

Danielle shook her head at the certainty of her conviction. _No._ Why bother thinking of someone doing something when they were not there to prove it? Oh, but Danielle had to, _needed_ to, after Logan left. Even in the middle of such a rally, when she was seeing the circle slowly block all exits and escape plans, she imagined Logan deep into a battle, claws out and a silly grin on his face. He would have tossed himself into reckless abandonment after ushering all unnecessary people into safety. New, spur-of-the-moment plans to eliminate the invaders (excepting the minor bombs, which were actually Hank and Rogue's idea) would be Logan's forte and he would enjoy every moment of it.

However, the Logan that Xavier worked so hard to heal after many uncertain years alone in the wild had come to nothing. It faded too fast after Xavier's untimely death and Alcatraz. The animal in Logan most likely returned, roaming the forests of Canada like he used to. Instinct had taken over reason. The animal had taken over the human.

In the middle of her fantasies, Danielle did not notice that the air was becoming less, stiffer too. She soon gulped like a fish out of water as Ororo did, grasping for any oxygen, but it was fading away fast. The eyes around her and Ororo and the children grouped them tighter, setting them in a noose bigger and tighter than their dummy's. The bodies soon around the platform packed tighter together, like sardines in a can, and whipped up their anger more than Ellis waved his arms for attention again and again, yelling out reassurances of safety and a better tomorrow. He then raised his fist in victory, finding it redundant to yell his speech any longer, and waved it back and forth shamelessly as he too yelled for death to mutants.

Time then seemed to slow down. Faces blurred into one another, the sun melting them in the heat like wax on a candle. A sea of fists soon pounded on the high wall of the platform, taking it down slowly board by board when enthusiasm to kill the mutants grew higher. Screams of encouragement mounted, getting Ororo and Danielle to back away with the children, only to have guns on their backs from their guards. It was now a matter of choice in their death: mob or gun.

Danielle then closed her eyes again, showing relief when there was none to be found, and smiled, wanting to laugh as her brother did and show her powers to the ignorant, to kill herself when nothing was wrong with her. Instead of giving into the madness reigning below her and in her mind, she held her sons tighter, willing the four of them to vanish, to echo out their detached vision of the world and proclaim their innocence. It wouldn't be long now, Danielle reasoned again, before somebody killed them. Then, it wouldn't be a martyred cause, but a just one, and one that would carry more consequences imaginable.

It was to be laughter at the uninformed, a smile to their fists and open arms to welcome death. It would be what Danielle imagined they would see her as. She was no martyr for the mutants, but she was one that escorted death and walked hand-in-hand for too long now.

It was now her time to die.

Suddenly though, Danielle's senses picked up at the unknown person again, one that Ororo could not even see through her wicked weather-related powers. Danielle was soon aware in the far distance of the rustling of a leather jacket, the click of a metal trigger…grass waving upward from a body crouched down in disgust for the situation below. Somebody in those hills was intent on something sinister, something that she knew would change her and others around her forever.

As the pops bounced forward and the pounding and crowding ceased when it was heard, Danielle pitched forward with Ororo and her son, the two adults using their bodies to cover the children as they tasted the wooden stage with their dry, cracked lips. Around them, the people below at the rally – guards, politicians and supporters all – lurched back and forth, debating on whether they should keep in sync with the waves running in all directions or to stay and kill the mutants onstage, who surely brought them this terror. However, all knew what was happening and many were soon dropping down into numbers of dead.

"Assassin!" one screamed, ducking her head.

"Mutants are attacking!" another yelled, sounding the alarm as if a Calvary could save them.

_Oh, God!_ Danielle was frightened, daring herself to sense the situation around her and try to salvage it.

"Leon!" Danielle then screamed, daring to lift her head and see the carnage of death and try to keep track of her husband when he disappeared in his great victory. "Leon! _Leon! _Get down! There's a –"

The final pop from afar killed her warning midsentence, the words disappearing from her lips as she watched a large bullet travel from a distance to where Leon Ellis stood in confusion. Her mouth formed an O shape as she felt the blood from her husband rain down her face, washing her of her guilt from years past. When she again dared to look up around for Ellis again, her mind reached into his, a forbidden activity she knew, and searched in the pain and happiness last left to him. When she tried pulling out of his damaged head, a light had gone out in there. Peace and darkness reigned in Leon Ellis' mind.

Senator Leon Ellis was assassinated. His reign of terror and discord had ended with that one bullet, but his successor, Peter Ellis, holding his newly dead wife in his arms, was ready to step up and take the mantle that he thought was rightfully his to begin with. And he was ready to make that move quickly enough.

Peter looked up from his position on the right, slowly letting go of Mary's dead body, and closed her eyes when the body was rested on the wooden floor in a listless stare. As the shooting died down, he took Danielle and Ororo's attention, beforehand not being seen in the chaos as terror and then assassination struck. However, the shine in his eyes and the pride in his new job now took over. Ambition and opportunity radiated from his mind, directing towards the group of mutants before him. His glance over to them was one of pure venom.

There was more than meets the eye, Ororo decided when seeing that gaze, and one she did not want to find out more of. It was time to leave when there was a chance, when Peter Ellis still had not decided what to do and how to order his new guards, and that time was now.

"Let's go!" she yelled at Danielle and the boys, helping them up and dragging them along with her, supporting them when one had fallen and then dragging them when running was not an option. "Let's go now!"

Down the stairs of the platform they went. Although there had been chaos, the four had managed to whip around the humans, avoiding hateful glances and yells as they escaped. Most humans now ignored them, tending to their wounded or dead with revenge on their minds. They would not pay attention to two women and two boys who were intent on leaving the scene of carnage and slaughter and did not care to stop them now.

However, it did not take long for Peter to catch up and see that his prisoners were gone. Even though he had been busy eying and appraising the situation, he took charge. Quickly, he ordered all men to gather whatever medical supplies to be had and to tend to the wounded and dead. He then ordered another set to call emergency services in the meantime, ensuring that the humans would survive. The last group he directed to the escaping mutants, who were now, as Peter saw as he glanced over, using their powers to kick up dust and wind to avoid detection.

Peter knew that the mutants would be able to flee. However, he had another trick up his sleeve, something even Leon Ellis did not think of when he written his will and grudgingly chosen his cousin above all men. In his pocket, Peter produced another device from Trask, one which would freeze any and all mutants and only them alone. Hitting the on button and programming it in the mutants' direction, Peter aimed the machine at the foursome and waited. Within seconds, four mutant bodies were now frozen solid, unable to move and were easy to carry about into the truck. They soon dropped to the dusty roads.

"Sir?" The captain of the guards came to Peter, taking his hat off in respect as he directed the last of the survivors out of the way. "I sincerely apologize in the death of your wife and cousin at the hands of the assassin."

"Do we have a lead?" Peter sounded cold, unfeeling in his new powers. It was like a glove needed in the wintertime, but only it felt better, rejuvenating too.

"No, Sir, but the mutants have been transported to the truck, as been ordered. Anything else?"

Peter thought for a moment. He was a widower at the moment. His new position rocketed him to the top position at the death of his cousin, per his will and that of their supporters. The mutant prisoners were in his hands literally. The possibilities, to him, were endless…and so were keeping with the one he had been after for so long and one that would satisfy his long-suppressed hunger. Danielle Ellis, Ororo Munroe and the Ellis children were hostages to him and him alone. And this was only the beginning, the beginning of another Ellis reign…

"Bring the dark-skinned women to the outgoing trucks," Peter ordered. "I want her on transport to the camp in Kansas. I have a special place for her, near the others from Xavier's mansion."

"And the former Mrs. Ellis and the children?"

"Bring them back to the farmhouse." Peter licked his lips in anticipation, relishing the thought of control at long last (and also insulting his newly dead wife, who had plans to send Danielle and the boys away because of her blind hatred). "I have specific plans for the Ellis family. For now, they are under house arrest, just as before, but freer of movement and only when I say so. The children and the mother will be transported to the camps when I am finished with them."

_There_, Peter thought as his orders were finally carried out, the captain saluting and carrying out what was said. _That should show them._

* * *

**Hey, everyone! Glad to be back. Was caught up in my own drama and did not have a computer for a bit, but now I'm back! Again, I always ask for some liberty in this story as well as the last. I know I mentioned the dreaded movies all don't like, but I figured, like _Days of Future Past_, it can all be fixed...somehow. Anyway, happy reading!**


	5. Next Moves on the Chessboard

**Four Months Later**

It was a cold December night, Logan had to admit, but it didn't bother him much. As he walked down the familiar country roads outside of Salem Center, New York, he thought back to the plans Xavier and Magneto had him carry out and ones he needed to start before the evil could be faced. Before anything could be determined, they said, he had to go back to New York and gather whatever X-Men he could. Then, when the initial trouble had been handled, he was to head back with or without them (preferably the former) and report. This, Logan had figured, was going to take months by the way the two older men had been talking. They had anticipated it too.

"We deducted that Ellis and his men already had taken over the farmhouse and then the school," Xavier explained to Logan as he sat next to Magneto, his friend from long ago, at their meeting spot near a café. "If so, then they would use whatever means possible to eliminate the mutants."

"And then what?" Logan asked, unsure of what to do, silent as a waitress passed them. "You make it sound like I'm gathering an unorganized group and shipping them back to you, Professor."

"In a manner, yes," Xavier admitted as Magneto glared at Logan with some contempt. Still, the two did not get along (especially after admitting that there was no reason for trust on both sides), but since Xavier stood between them, there was no way to worm out of working as a team.

"You would need to infiltrate the camps, Wolverine," Magneto added, crossing his arms in a militant fashion. "The only way is to bring together the people who can help make it happen. It's going to take all of us, side-by-side and united, to end this battle before it escalates into another war."

"You've been saying that for years," Logan replied tartly to Magneto, clearly tired of the evaluation from history long past. "What makes you think that now is the time?"

"Because Trask has made its move, Logan," Xavier pointed out, in agreement with Magneto, although he was more in a pacifist's mood and obviously hiding something. "They've made many since 1969. However, it's now our turn. Since they're secret on the camps and then the support in the growing momentum, there's been nobody to challenge them."

"Until now." Magneto stood up from his seat, starting the end of the meeting before suspicion was laid on them. "They've captured most of the mutants at the school. Now, there are few left to help us. The first and most important to find is Danielle Mitchell."

Logan's heart jumped into his throat. He had not thought of Danielle for some time now, being caught up in his own drama and adventures, but had clearly shown surprised to the two older men. Most of all, his silent questions asked why she had to be involved. Her husband was head of all of this mess and she could be used by him as easily as ever before. It was the same with the children. There wasn't a way for her to completely stop her husband, save for killing him, which she would never do.

"Afterward, find Mae and Roger Mortimer," Xavier said, seeing that Magneto was finding it amusing that Logan was so caught up in his life once more (and most likely seeing that Logan was thinking of himself). "They're Ellis' sister and brother-in-law respectively, but would have the tools to assist you."

"How?" Logan asked, seeing that his meeting was soon to be over when even Xavier was finding a way to leave. "How can these two, who are probably in cahoots with Ellis, help me get to Danielle?"

"I think you should look first before deciding, Logan." Xavier looked grave as he turned to Logan, but he was so stoic that Logan could have sworn that something worse was going on other than the mutants heading into the camps. "Evaluate the situation, talk with the Mortimers as you find Danielle and decide the next step. We will not be expecting a response from you for some time, maybe some months, because of how involved you will be. But contact us here when you are finished and bring everybody you can back."

Of course their meeting spot wasn't exactly someplace Logan could remember the name of (the café being something he was not averse to going to), but the coordinates suited him, especially in his recently discovered skill of map reading (as well as finally listening and asking for directions from others). It had been something he had done so long ago, before he lost his memories, in wars he had waged with the US and Canada behind him and continents he was dropped into because of the clear enemy. Logan could not recall a war he did not participate in between the Civil War and Vietnam. He even could not recall a war in which he did not have his brother either…defending or protecting him.

Indeed, he could not recall how he had made it through so alive, especially after the turbulence he had been experiencing these past two and a half years.

And so, it was then with those thoughts that Logan left Xavier and Magneto, taking off as quickly as he could, down the roads to Salem Center some miles (and days) away. Granted, he had not bothered to be seen and took the long way through the woods, but when he reached the beginning of the familiar road, he stopped, allowing himself to be seen somewhat. On the way though, Logan had watched humans persecute mutants by the multitudes, ignored a lynching and jumped when the trucks rolled by, carrying mutants and perhaps other resistant prisoners. All had made him nervous, perhaps imaging Danielle and the children in one of those positions too.

It had been _too_ easy to think about the horrors and to care about someone long gone perhaps, Logan decided as he smoked his cigar, and put the pictures from his mind away. As he walked down the road, he decided to stay in the shadows, leaping from farm field to field. Soon, he reached a long tree line before the well-known house, its eerie demons beckoning him to go backwards and run away, unlike those years ago, when he was welcomed with surprise.

Logan gulped audibly as he stopped by the tree line. The farmhouse Danielle and the children resided in had seemed deserted, dark and forbidding. Yet, even with the killings and persecution, Xavier had been sure that she and the children were still there in relative safety, if he could call it that. But to get to the Mortimers and then the other X-Men was another tricky situation meant for another day, when he had seen Danielle and gotten to them through her. Now, Logan supposed as he moved his feet forward, he had to face the music of his desertion and work from there.

The yellow winter grass crunched under Logan's feet as he propelled forward with much caution. Every sense in his body told him there was danger around him, but he ignored it. It was not like someone could kill him, but after his adventures in Japan (if one could call it that), anything could happen. Trask could have advanced more so than he expected or was in league with another company bent on destruction.

Smaller things soon were picked up by Logan, Trask and others deserted for the moment. He soon saw signs of sadness around the house. The porch light appeared to have been shot off. No toys littered it like it used to, but a lone mitten decorated the railing and was unraveling by the seams. A bucket of clothes' pins were all that remained before the door. With his night vision, Logan could even see a sprayed painted message on the wall next to a window.

_Die, mutants! Die and go to hell!_

It was as obvious of a message as could be. Turning away from it, Logan knocked on the door, ignoring the spider webs of cracks in the glass. He had not seen any light or heard any music blaring, but he was sure that Danielle, if there, would be aware of his presence and open the door. However, even with the lack of luminosity and music, the silence unnerved Logan. It was not normal.

It was only a squeaky, weak voice that answered soon enough, seconds after the knock. "Who's there?"

Logan could not tell who it was. If it was Danielle, he would feel awkward saying that it was him, after all this time, and that he had come back to help fight for what was humanity's and mutants'. Instead, he waited, soon seeing a light from the living room turn on. Then, a thin shadow appeared, crossing around to the door. When the figure seemed it safe to open the door after a moment's hesitation, illumination barely flooding outside, Logan was startled by what he saw.

It was Danielle, wrapped in her pajamas and a robe. Her long, red hair had been cut short to her shoulders and was streaked with more white than Logan remembered. She was emaciated, more so than Logan had ever seen with her, and her clothing hung like a scarecrow. The joy in her eyes had vanished with no red eyes and hazel ones that had grown dull. While Logan thought her age to be in the early thirties some time back, she appeared more like fifty.

"Logan? Logan, is that you?" Danielle's voice was a whisper, not of longing anymore, but of fright. "Get inside quickly, before someone sees us."

Logan obeyed her fast, remembering the people outside, and then was facing the light. Blinking to adjust from the dark night, Logan saw Danielle shut the door, lock it and turn to face him, the window in the door blocked by her body and becoming an easy target for shooters outside. She then flipped the kitchen overhead lamps on, facing him with nothing more than a blank face, free of all thoughts. Logan thought she might have been angry in the very least, but had left him with no impression of that.

"What are you doing here?" Danielle then asked Logan neutrally, touching his shoulder lightly to brush off the road's dirt…

…And then, she was there. Within a flash, Danielle saw memories of anguish, discovery and then fear. Logan running off without direction after Jean's death, hiding within the woods of Canada on the west coast and going off to Japan some months before. She saw his knightly stance in taking care of that poor girl, Mariko, and his bodyguard with the red hair, a name that Danielle could not catch because of the flood of so many memories. Then, she saw him at the airport, asking for a pat down when he turned to see Magneto and then the Professor.

_No! The Professor is dead!_

Danielle was sure of that. She had been there when it happened, watched in horror with Logan and Ororo as Jean practically tried disintegrating everybody, succeeding in killing the Professor, and Magneto egging her on and telling her that the Professor had been wrong to suppress her full potential as a mutant. The Dark Phoenix then had risen and was more powerful than ever before. Now, the impossible had become reality. The Professor was alive somewhere…and working with Magneto on a mission, recruiting Logan on the way.

Whatever purpose it is, Danielle could not see. Logan was not giving that up anything soon.

"Can't a man see someone he hasn't seen in a while?" Logan joked uneasily, but even that was falling flat.

"I suppose," Danielle replied cautiously, unsure of what else to say and suddenly turning motherly. "Have you eaten yet?"

"With so many people out there, no." Logan started looking at the refrigerator with longing, but in a joking manner. "Have any leftovers?"

Danielle winced outwardly. Fortunately, her husband had been kind enough to leave his life insurance and some inheritance money in her care, his will unaltered from the times he loved her (and, as Danielle suspected, unaware some years ago that he had little time left in his lifetime to alter it). Although now a wealthy woman in her own right, Danielle felt guilty in having so much when others had nothing. Food flooded her house, her mutant status had yet to throw her into a camp and the man she loved was now in front of her after all this time.

Luck could have been on Danielle's side, but she felt anything but that. Turning with assent to her refrigerator and playing the role of caretaker dearly, she opened the door and rummaged through the overflow, taking out what might appease Logan and preparing herself to cook. She, however, did not notice that her visitor was studying her.

Logan saw that the short hair did not cover Danielle's neck like it used to. As she bent over and moved some containers over, putting some on the counters, he noticed that a bright rash covered the back of her neck, a red dot centered in it.

Whoever was around, Logan reasoned, was drugging Danielle. She was a slave, but to who and why was another story left for another day.

* * *

**It's been debated whether or not Logan had regained his past by the time _Days of Future Past_ rolled along. As I understand it (and from what I read from interviews), by the time _The Wolverine_ had taken place, he had remembered his past and was in deep guilt concerning that (as well as Jean Grey's death). I even read (and barely heard when seeing the movie) that voices haunted him in that scene at the seedy motel, one of them being Kayla Silverfox.**

**Questions, comments, concerns? Please message me or review below. If even I missed something, please let me know, ok? I like to keep this as close to the comics and movies as possible, even if the two are different in many ways.**


	6. I Want to Shelter You

The noises downstairs were enough to wake up the two boys upstairs. Accustomed to no sleep and fearing for their lives already, Michael immediately opened his eyes and listened to what it could be, since his mother was often alone and with no company except for the military men. While Michael could also project his voice to another room, he could not do the same with hearing, but he knew someone who might have the chance to listen. From his bed on the top bunk, he looked down, seeing Riley on the bottom. Climbing down so that his mother could not hear him, Michael edged into Riley's underside bunk and shook him awake.

Just when Michael was seeing Riley form the words to an endless, childish scream of terror, he put his hand on his brother's mouth. "Shhh! Do you want Momma to hear us?"

Riley saw that it was Michael on the bed and calmed himself. Fighting back tears of shock, he braved himself. "No," he whispered hoarsely to Michael in a muffled tone, soon hearing the conversation below them. "What's going on?"

"I think somebody's here," Michael answered, taking his hand away from Riley's mouth. "I don't think it is Cousin Peter. He said he was leaving for a couple of months and was going to protect us from the bad men when he was gone."

"I don't like him." Riley's face soon turned into a pout as he remembered that lie from Peter Ellis.

"I don't either," Michael conceded, "but I'm curious. Think you can get down there and see who's there?"

Riley continued to pout, unwilling to use his powers of becoming a shadowlike creature to eavesdrop. "No. Momma will see."

"Yeah, she _does_ know everything." Michael was quiet for a minute, noting that the conversation was no longer buzzing below them, but the smell of a dinner sizzling was enough to make a mouth water. "Hey, why don't we both sit on the stairs? She might not see us."

"She will."

"Will _not_. Besides, my plans work, right?"

"No. But I'd like to see who is down there."

"See? _That's_ the spirit! Let's go!"

Michael and Riley then crept out of the bed together and tiptoed out of the bedroom. With no hallway light on, they carefully counted the stairs until they reached the corner, where it turned to the kitchen. From there, as eyes adjusted, they saw their mother and another person in the shadows. Danielle was cooking something on the stove and the man (and it was obvious that it wasn't a woman) was studying her intently, waiting for something and not finding it. Michael swore to himself that the visitor was familiar, but could not put his finger on it. Then, when his mind went back to over two years ago, in San Francisco and walking amongst those who did not like him and being protected by a man strong enough to be his father, he screamed with excitement.

"Logan!" he yelled, immediately giving away their position without thought. "Riley, Riley! It's Logan!"

Riley could not remember Logan, but had jumped up and down from his seat, just as Michael was doing, and grinned silly. He then followed Michael down the remainder of the stairs and was crowding the mutant, who was watching them with a somewhat detached amusement. Danielle, on the other hand, was not pleased. Turning from her cooking and making sure it would not burn while she herded the boys upstairs, she gave a stern look as she crossed over and cut the boys and Logan apart through her arm.

"It's late," she began harshly, pushing Riley and Michael away from Logan. "You both should be in bed."

"Aww, Momma," Michael began in a long whiny tone, anxious to be with Logan and listen to his tales. "Logan's back!"

"We'll see," Danielle only said, looking back to Logan as she used her arms again to coral the children to where she needed them to be. "He'll still be here in the morning. You can talk with him then."

"Promise?" Michael turned to Logan, even though he directed his inquiry at his mother.

"Promise," Logan replied gruffly for Danielle, exasperated on the inside. Hell, even the _kids_ were extracting things from him after all this time!

When Danielle disappeared, Logan listened for her (as well as watching the food cook on the stove). From his position, he heard the boys arguing about bedtime (even Riley), yawns from them both and then Danielle reading a story when the two complained that they weren't sleepy. By then, Logan flipped the meat in the pan and stirred the frozen vegetables, taking in the soft voice reading from a heavy tome of classics, so much like long ago. Fifteen minutes later, he heard heavy breathing and then a relieved sigh.

A minute later, Danielle appeared, appreciative that Logan had tended the food. "Thank you."

"What was that about?" Logan raised an eyebrow, still choosing to use few words to slowly get to the bottom of the mysteries yet to be solved.

"I guess Michael heard us and decided to instigate and had Riley come along," Danielle explained, taking Logan's place at the stove. "You know the kids. I mean, he'll see you in the morning and talk. I'm sure they have questions."

"Like you?" Logan touched Danielle's hand, not seeing her flinch away from him. It was, however, enough for her to see more memories without jumping into his mind.

"I guess," Danielle replied stiffly, but when she shifted through memories in her own mind from Logan's, she saw a different picture.

It was that airport scene again. It was almost like Danielle was there too, but the crowds of people made it impossible to see where and when again. Logan was there of course, somewhat happy to be away from his bodyguard, but also interested in a commercial on the TV above his head. As he walked, Danielle followed his gaze, seeing the Trask advertisement. Many others watched the TV with contentment on their faces, confident that they were saved from this wondrous company.

"_There are dark forces, Wolverine…"_

Danielle snapped out of the reverie as quickly as she went into it. Serving Logan's meal on a plate next to her within seconds, she gave it to him and followed as Logan walked to the living room. Noticing that it was the same as always (save for the missing toys her husband had around the house that even he did not touch), Logan eased into his usual seat on the left side of the couch and dug into his food as Danielle sunk into a chair next to him. He had to admit though that Danielle was still a good cook…as well as a hacker, artist, mother, friend, _lover_…

It was then that Logan had a better look at Danielle, without imagining her naked, as he used to. Yes, the white hair was there with the red. She was thinner than a rail still. But there was something else too. While Logan could hardly believe that her paleness was from the shock of seeing him again (almost like the dead coming back as a ghost), he spotted more redness on the front of the neck, more so than the rash on the back of it. His eyes trained themselves on the food and Danielle alternately, eating as he stared at her in brief patches without suspicion, but ultimately, he saw what he was seeking, but not clearly.

Logan touched Danielle's hand again. "You all right?"

It was in Danielle's eyes that Logan took the answer from. She quickly snatched her hand back and hid it in her robe sleeve, fright on her face for a brief moment before answering. "Yes. Yes. Why?"

"I was worried is all." Logan paused, taking in the fast tone. "I figured you wanted to know."

"Know…what?"

"I had to hide, Danielle. I needed to. I went to Japan, traveled a little and came home. And I'm…well, I'm glad to be back."

Silence reigned. Danielle only glanced at Logan, seeing the honesty on his face, and was about to forgive him everything and accept his demons as well as hers, past, present and future. She was going to say everything to him too, spill out the horrors of those times he was gone, and cry on his shoulders. She was going to allow him into her soul, to bear everything to him and give him the truth that she never was able to present when he was with her. But the last night with Peter Ellis shut her up, like his words of farewell meant something to her, and that she was nothing more than a plaything. The last night she almost saw herself dying with satisfaction.

It never did mean something to Danielle. It never _will_.

_I wanna hide the truth,  
I want to shelter you.  
But with the beast inside,  
There's nowhere we can hide._

_No matter what we breed,  
We still are made of greed.  
This is my kingdom come,  
This is my kingdom come._

"Leon is dead," Danielle only blurted out without ceremony, not willing to give much more about that day at the rally other than its cause. "He was assassinated."

Danielle saw the approval on Logan's face, but heard no response as he ate. She was sure that he was saddened by the loss for the children somewhat, but not by much though. Logan was happy Leon Ellis was dead, dead and buried forever.

"Riley and Michael are growing up like weeds, like you just saw," Danielle continued, aware that her lips were still and not working as well as she thought they would. Words still swirled in her mind, but it still could not come out. "I guess that's it."

"That's it?" Danielle detected the disbelief in Logan's voice. "There's gotta be more, babe. Where's Storm, Rogue, Hank, everyone? What happened to the school?"

Danielle's face fell and she stood up to end the conversation abruptly. Logan saw it, but was also hesitant on stopping her from leaving.

As Danielle left and headed to the stairwell, she muttered in an inaudible tone, "I don't know, Logan. I just don't know anymore."

And as Danielle passed, Logan saw it. He almost dropped his fork, but as she disappeared, Logan tried to keep as calm as possible (as well as keep his pride as he was grounded to the couch understandably). He had to now, already discerning that a battle was now on his hands for the bastard who was around. And he felt no remorse for when they came back for Danielle and the children.

There had been a rope wrapped around Danielle's neck where the rash had not reached. The marks still decorated her where she was hung, like a common criminal.

* * *

**Again, I have to thank Imagine Dragons for the song, "Demons". Cannot help myself, love the song!**


	7. Sleepless Nights and Knife Fights

Logan spent a sleepless night on the living room couch after the family went to bed hours before. While thoughts ran through his mind as to the possibilities as the night turned to a chilly, dark morning, he now knew that Leon Ellis was not responsible. Or, he could be indirectly before his death and one thing led to another. Many men followed him, Logan reasoned, and one could be coming back to get Danielle after leaving her alone for a period of time. However, it had to be somebody powerful because Logan was sure that she and the children would have been gone by now.

Somebody was protecting Danielle and using her and the children. To what gain, this was not figured into an equation just yet.

By then, Logan had ceased to think, as was his custom. Instead, his senses now detected another presence on the bottom floor. While the weak winter sun had yet to peek out, he could see the outline of someone around the brightened corner…Danielle. She was in the same clothes as the night before, her eyes hidden behind the mask of mutant redness. While she gazed in Logan's direction on and off most absentmindedly, knowing that he was awake, she made it a point of asking for privacy by disappearing on and off, like she did when Logan bothered her constantly, all that time ago.

Logan could not resist. Curiosity had been plaguing him since the night before and he _had_ to know. He got up from the couch and was soon in the kitchen, watching a now visible Danielle (unaware that she was being observed) turn the sink water on and wash dishes, examining them cleaned from the light above her. Logan inched slowly behind her, watching her movements, and was soon directly behind her. He touched her shoulder gently, wanting nothing more than to say a greeting, and was meeting eyes of the coldest, reddest color.

_That_, Logan was sure, had never been in Danielle's personality before.

As Logan backed up slowly from the defense, he saw that Danielle was not aware of what she was doing and her surroundings. Soapy knife in hand, Danielle threw it directly at Logan, almost like she would to an enemy (something he would like to see sometime, but had heard stories about, especially from Hank McCoy, that fuzzy bastard).

"Jesus Christ, Danielle!" Logan ducked, but was not fast enough. The knife just hit the side of his head, embedded above his right ear.

The obscenity was more than enough to wake Danielle up. When she shook her head and saw Logan kneeling on the floor, pulling out the knife and his skin covering the wound quickly, she was shocked.

"Oh, my God, are you all right?" Although Danielle knew that Logan had rapid healing abilities, she was more concerned that she startled him more than anything. Kneeling in front of Logan as the offending item was dropped to the floor through the growling, she added, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention. I'm so sorry, Logan."

"It's all right," Logan only replied, groaning from the split second headache on the side of his head. "I've been hit with worse and from women bitchier than you."

Again, there was that silence, even if the last comment was more of a compliment than an insult (and even an acknowledgement of the apology). Danielle only picked up the knife and put it back on the counter, not keen on washing it anytime soon. In the meantime, Logan stood up, cracking his neck, and kept his eyes on Danielle, who now turned to rinse more dishes. He was about to say something, like how it was ok that she was a little on edge these days, but could not find the proper words to comfort her. Instead, he stood there, aware that he was being a pest, and waited until Danielle said something.

"Why don't you take a shower before the kids get up?" she suggested five minutes later, unable to bear him behind her any longer. "Your clothes are still kicking around somewhere. I'll bring them to you while you're washing down and when I'm finished cleaning here."

Without realizing it, Logan saw a golden opportunity, a chance to investigate further. While the farmhouse itself was large and only had a garage, mud room, kitchen, dining room, half bath and laundry room on the bottom floor (as well as a basement with a wood stove), the layout on the top floor, with its bedrooms, full bathroom and complicated and many hallways, gave him an excuse to get lost. While Logan was sure Danielle could be suspicious if and when he was caught, he still took whatever he could.

Not replying and complying (hell, even a shower seemed nice after so much time on the road, he mused), Logan headed behind him to the stairwell and climbed. When he reached the top, he listened carefully to the first bedroom on the left, which was the boys' room. Still hearing their heavy breathing, but one that would wake soon, he sighed with relief for the few minutes left to him. His footsteps made it to the bathroom and he shut the door completely, opening it quietly with trepidation when he was sure Danielle was not listening too. Then, on the balls of his feet, he made it across the hallways to the next bedroom without detection, the door in which was closed and always had been locked in all the times he had stayed. Passing by three more rooms and some closets later, Logan came to the end of the line, standing in the same room that, more than five years earlier, Danielle, Riley and Michael almost lost their lives.

There, in front of Logan, was the door to Danielle's room, the first clue in the mystery, he felt. He tried the knob, but it was oddly locked too, which was unlike its mistress. Then, unleashing his right middle claw (and somehow, and oddly enough, thanking Magneto for pulling the metal out again), he played with the mechanisms, but could not seem to reach the one to unlock it. Admitting defeat for now, as he was hearing some stirring in the boys' room, he stealthily made his way back to the bathroom as his claw went back in, stripping himself of his clothes, throwing them in a hamper and running the water. By then, Michael and Riley were up and already banging on the door.

"Hey, can't a man have some peace when he's showering?" Logan had to yell jokingly, annoyed by then that the kids were all over him, but somehow glad to see them.

"Logan –" Michael began in the excitement before being interrupted.

"Get away from there, you two!" Danielle's voice was heard over the running water. As Logan soaped up with the bar available (not caring that he didn't wash his hair), he heard her add as tiny footsteps ran off, "Your questions will be answered when Logan gets out. Be patient and get some breakfast, will you?"

Soon, the children were downstairs and obviously making noises of contentment as the refrigerator opened and closed many times and chatting mingled with spoon clanking, the sun finally peeking out to catch the shiny metal utensils. When it all disappeared into the living room, Danielle sighed in relief and made her way to her bedroom. She had a limited amount of time before Logan was out from under the water. From her position (and the way she could tell Logan was barely washing), she knew she had about three minutes. Running to the end of house, she unlocked her bedroom door from the key wrapped around her neck, bee lining for the closet. After putting her husband's old clothes to one side, she found Logan's. Piling them on the bed from the closet, she picked out the least obnoxious pair and his boots and took all with her, locking the door behind her and depositing the rest of the belongings in a linen closet, to be distributed later.

It was perfect timing, Danielle supposed, as she slipped the clothes into the bathroom just as the water stopped. She opened the door without looking, threw the clothes and boots in and ran downstairs. All had been done as if it was normal, like Logan was still living here and it had been another day to eagerly look forward to. This time of year, Danielle recalled mournfully, Logan took Michael out sledding on the hill behind the house and chopped wood in the back as she and Riley stayed in the house, warm and safe.

It was different now. As Danielle steadied herself by the curve of the stairs, her hand resting on a wall and her head leaning into her chest, she replayed the actions in her mind. Something was not right with the door. She figured the lock had been tampered with, but it was very recent. In the minutes before the shower, she deducted that Logan was sleuthing around. He was subtle about it surely, but the metal springs also had the unique markings of a man with metal claws.

Danielle soon heard the children in the kitchen, waiting for her and Logan to join them. Of course, it was time to keep a smile on her face (like all was normal, unlike months past), but it was also a time for her to think as well. As Danielle lifted her head and continued to the bottom of the stairs, she concluded little, but was definite about one thing.

Logan was not going after his past anymore and probably hadn't for months. He was now going after hers.

~00~

It was a damp, chilly afternoon, but the heating was adequate, despite the office being the best in the buildings in New York City. Peter Ellis, now senator of New York and Director of Mutant Affairs for Trask and Washington DC, sat quietly in his seat, formally his cousin's office, and pondered upon his next move. Surely, it was a dismal Thanksgiving with Danielle and the children (cordial as it had been), but something had been missing, he figured, as the December days stretched before him and Christmas became a season to contemplate. Declaring to her before leaving that a break was in session because of urgent matters elsewhere (and promising presents to the boys), Peter also was in a generous mood to Danielle, albeit a precarious one at that.

Already, even though the climb from representative and deputy to senator and chief was a long one, it was a torturous position and one that Peter was not meant for, groomed as he was by Leon. No, Peter was realizing, Leon was a higher power, but it was one mightier than he that controlled more affairs than before. Granted, Leon was great and worked splendidly with Trask, but it was the president of Trask and William Stryker (the latter now declared dead some years ago) that usually called the shots, even if his cousin was a real commander on his own.

And the president of Trask was a shadowy one, at best. Peter had met him once after gaining his powers (and never before, even when Mary was called in as her position in mutant affairs was clear), but it was only to tell him to keep his head cool and to plan everything one small step at a time. Although dismissed with nothing more than a wave (and one from a hand so darkened from no lights and in an office with its own floor and no trespassing rules), Peter trembled in this presence, promising himself that no wrong can be had.

Until now, that is.

Camps were running on full power, Peter saw, and it was successful. Mutants everywhere were being picked up to go or were killed by the locals or on the way. Each was in their own cages, tied back by their powers and the inability to be themselves, terrorizing the public as they did before. Nobody was allowed to cross the borders because the same was said to the American neighbors. There was no escape anywhere, as all passports were stamped and checked every few minutes. Everybody was in support of the new laws, it seemed.

There was resistance and there always will be, Peter figured as he fidgeted in his chair, but it was growing and growing fast. Reports of Roger Mortimer's teams fighting the countryside (some in the name of now-dead Charles Xavier) plagued his existence and annoyed him enough that he was tempted to take Mae, his cousin and Leon's younger sister, again. Others were independent groups, many of them wishing for attention, suicide or fame.

The Sentinels picked them up easily, Peter saw, but it wouldn't be long before the rest of the overload came. And it would be sooner than later, he calculated, so he then tallied his work and schemed to fight back. Figures and statistics swam through his throbbing eyes like fish in the water. The hour was late and the warmth of the office was barely satisfying him still. He _needed_ to go home, to his apartment across the city. He even wistfully imagined the woman he picked up the streets too, a gentle, submitting woman who would massage his back and give in to his demands, more so than Danielle or even Mary ever would…

"Sir, urgent report from Salem Center."

"Huh?" Peter sat up straighter in his desk, suddenly facing the captain that took care of his mutant prisoners. While Peter could not remember his name, he trusted this one more than the others and had come to rely on the man's advice more than once.

"I do apologize I interrupted you, Sit, but this is important or else I would not be here," the captain explained defensively, handing a report and some pictures to Peter. "There's been a change in the household. Some other man had been spotted last night at about twenty-three hundred hours and had been admitted in. Dark haired, short, carrying nothing more than the clothes on his back, but no coat and no others following. He seems to know Mrs. Ellis and vice versa. He stayed the night and is still there, playing with the children."

When Peter took a good look at the pictures, one of them showing a peaceful, although strained, porch scene, he saw that it was the mutant Danielle loved, Logan. While his file had been tucked away and almost added to the pile going out to the camps to be filed under "not captured" (the only one, it seemed), Peter had been sure that it would be shredded because no location for the mutant was found. Now, it seemed there was. If Logan stayed where he was, things would be easier, much more so than ever before. Again calculating, Peter estimated a visit in a few weeks with the appropriate paperwork would suffice, even if that process had been started by Mary long ago.

"Captain, put the house on extra surveillance," Peter orders, willing himself not to think of Danielle with another man, mutant or not, sex or not. "I will put in the paperwork to have the man arrested and questioned, but I would need your assistance with the evidence for or against this man. Any movement, report it to me. Any weakness, tell me. I want to know this man better than I know myself. I have special plans for him."

"Yes, Sir!" The captain saluted, leaving Peter with the paperwork and his thoughts, executing the orders given.

And was Peter ever lost in his musings as the captain left. Twirling his chair left and right, he put a finger to his cheek and lost himself in his plans. "Yes, do I ever now have specials plans for you, Logan. Or, should I call you James Howlett?"


	8. Chances

Mae Ellis Mortimer, sitting opposite of her husband Roger in their truck as they drove to Danielle's, was never fond of the changes recently, especially now in this time when she and her family could be going to their deaths soon. Lost in her own thoughts as the truck rolled through frosty hills and slick roads to the farmhouse, she seemed to have recalled a time before, when being a mutant was not as dangerous was it was now, but did not seem to find the right nostalgic memory to keep herself in. Her life had been dangerous enough.

After all, all she was doing outwardly was taking care of her sister-in-law, a little girl that she had loved since she was born, as a promise to the girl's dead mother. And today was such a promise, one to assist in cleaning out her brother's things and sorting them to donate, throw away or keep.

_Danielle is twenty-eight years old, for God's sake! Why think of her as that now, a little girl, after all these years?_

Mae had known Shannon and her sister Gabrielle Adams, Danielle's mother and aunt respectively, when they were children and teenagers. The three went to school together at some point (since Salem Center's only school was sectioned by grade and everyone knew everyone), bonded together over their eventual mutual mutant abilities that soon got them ostracized from their peers. Although Mae was several years younger (Shannon being ten years older and Gabrielle seven), the two older sisters protected her from those who meant her harm, her brother Leon most of all. Over time, when Mae's parents could hardly contain Leon's passionate hatred towards her, she escaped to the Adams' house, the farmhouse and several acre property that Danielle lived on today, and became adapted by the family.

Soon enough, the two Adams sisters were married and having children. While Mae was ten years old when this happened (1969 being the year her parents decided not to bother her about leaving anymore and concentrate on Leon going to Vietnam), she was glad to see children come of semi-happy marriages, even if Gabrielle soon divorced her husband after six years and Shannon's husband dealt with the traumas from the war. However, the three still got together, often in the farmhouse backyard (owned by Shannon then, when their mother signed the deed over when Gabrielle found her own home). Gabrielle's two girls (Jane and Leandra) and boy (Matthew) were slightly younger than Jayden, Shannon's eldest, but it was Danielle, the youngest, who the four took care of the most.

However, as the years past, Mae almost lost track of these people, caught up in her own drama. Always the partier, she jumped from bar to bar, trying to find satisfaction from a childhood that always had its good memories, but also the bad. Haunted by the teasing and harassment of being a mutant with wings and the chance to memory jump, Mae drunk herself into a stupor, running into one man and another. However, one always protected her and had kept beside her from all of this.

Roger Mortimer, who had been there when she was barhopping, was a constant factor of her life. Mae had met the militant mutant when at Phineas Teller's bar in 1974, when she was already making herself out to be older than fifteen. By then, Mortimer, eighteen and a part of some gifted school across town, was sipping a beer from his stool when an older man tried taking Mae out back to the alleyway. Stopping the man and beating his face in when the obvious answer from a drunken Mae was a negative slur, Roger had been following her ever since, urging her to seek refuge with Charles Xavier.

Mae ignored the advice, continuing to drown herself in her sorrows until 1978, when she found out she was pregnant. She didn't know who the father was, but was determined, just as Shannon announced the same news to her too, that enough was enough. Finally taking Roger's advice, she escaped her own demons and stayed with Xavier for some years before gaining her RN degree and a home. After her son, Gil, was born, she welcomed Roger into her life (as well as Danielle and Jayden, when Shannon soon turned to her depression), but would never accept his proposal of marriage. She wasn't sure if she liked the rough man who said little, but was willing to fight for what he loved, and had taken years to figure it out. In the end, the two married for love, but it was when Gil was fifteen and when already so much turmoil was happening with mutants.

Throughout that time, before her 1994 marriage to Roger, Mae had seen enough tragedy in the Mitchell family, but worse had yet to happen. Henry Jones Mitchell, Shannon's husband, had nearly beat Danielle to death when she was three, causing Shannon to throw him out of the house, although they never divorced and he was never seen again. Gabrielle, as well as her mother and her daughters, were held up by robbers in a parking garage in 1989 and were killed when the captors found nothing except that they were mutants. Matthew had been in the car and the only survivor, but had secluded himself as one foster family after another denied him the love he craved. Jayden had married for love in 1990 to a faction of the Ellis family, before he was shipped overseas to Kuwait, but had faced worse than his wife, Fiona (a cousin a few times removed from Mae and Leon), was killed in a car accident on Christmas Eve, 1991. Their son, Jackson, was less than a year old and Jayden was overseas, scheduled to come home less than a week later for leave and reassignment.

There was more to the story, but Mae was unwilling to contemplate it as Roger neared the farmhouse and drove in, parking behind the SUV. Of course, there had been Jayden's murder by Leon, Shannon's suicide in the assisted living home two months later, Danielle's three miscarriages before Riley as born, the bomb that exploded…

Before Mae knew it, she and Roger were standing on the porch, knocking on the door and eying the new message on the wall with grief. Roger stood there uncomfortably enough, not willing to admit that he was very averse to being at the farmhouse, and said nothing about the suggestion to die. However, he grumbled a little, saying something Mae could not understand.

"What, dear?" Mae asked, seeing that one of the children was at the door and shouting for his mother. It looked like Riley, but Mae could not tell with the quickness the child had.

"I said, this isn't going to work." Roger growled a little, but seemed quiet in his schemes. He had heard from Xavier recently (not believing that he was alive after all this time either) and was not keen on working with someone who, last he remembered, was a loner and could run away at any given time.

"Give Logan a chance," Mae reassured him, hearing Danielle's small footsteps come to the door. "The Professor did. It wasn't Logan's fault that Jean Grey turned to her darker side and had listened to Magneto. He did what he had to do and was most likely guilty for it too. Danielle mentioned that he had unresolved demons of his own beforehand and a past that he did not remember. Would you blame him?"

Roger muttered an oath under his breath, but smiled through his façade when Danielle opened the door. The three exchanged greetings fairly enough, but Mae took Danielle upstairs with the children within seconds, declaring that the two had to catch up as they worked and leave the men alone. Riley and Michael were excited and only followed Mae and Danielle upstairs (happy enough that Logan had earlier told them about the places he had seen, albeit briefly), but it left Roger alone. Encouraged by the act Mae put up for him, he turned from the kitchen to the living room, seeing the solitary figure on the couch easily enough.

Logan heard Roger's approach, but did not acknowledge him because of recognition. Instead, as the older man sat across from Logan in a chair, the latter took a beer he had grabbed from the refrigerator earlier and opened it, making it a point that he wanted to be left alone. Roger could not blame him of course, taking Danielle's usual seat comfortably. He and Logan were butting heads when the trips to Alkali Lake were long completed and Jean Grey long gone too, before and after the Dark Phoenix. Logan also did not like him bossing Danielle around when she was in a vulnerable state, urging her to take action against her husband. Then again, Roger was sure that Logan did not sense her feelings either, lost in his own, and was just was being possessive of Danielle. He was also sure that Logan did not make out who he was either.

Logan took another sip of his beer and looked at Roger. "Listen, bub –"

"I don't like this as much you probably are," Roger interrupted, assuming that Logan knew who he was, but showing that he was not pleased too. "But we need to work together for everyone's sake."

Logan nearly dropped his beer in shock, which delighted Roger. He did not know who Roger was after all, but thought him as another asshole around the mansion then, when Hank urged the school to be closed and Xavier was supposedly dead. This would work better to his advantage, he supposed, but for now, Logan needed to have the rules laid out for him.

"I have men around the country, searching for the other team members," Roger whispered in a conspirator-like tone. "I won't hear from them in a while. Right now, I believe that we need to work on Danielle."

"What? Why would –"

"Logan, we don't have much time to talk." Roger stared into those eyes seriously. "I have reason to believe that she's in grave danger, but I can't tell who it is yet that threatens us, her especially. All I know now is that, some months ago, she and the others were defending the mansion and were captured. She and Ororo Munroe and the children were taken to a rally outside of town, where Leon Ellis was assassinated instead of them. While we have reason to believe Chameleon was back at work, we can't see if he'll strike again at Peter Ellis, the successor."

"Peter Ellis behind this…and Chameleon is alive?"

"Yes, Logan, the same man who was a bumbling idiot. And yes, Chameleon is alive, but weaker the last few years, because of a wound nobody can tell the source of. And as far as I can tell, Ororo Munroe is locked up with the others and we've been spared so far. Danielle and the children probably were saved because of Ellis, but it won't be long before they're taken…as well as us too. Time isn't on our side."

Logan could not say anything to the man who annoyed him so long ago (and now had his name), but his words made sense. He had to agree that time was short. Soon though, the older man bore his eyes into Logan's, seeing the agreement in there.

"What have you gathered so far?" Roger asked Logan, not sure of what answers he'll get.

Logan put his beer down on the coffee table, not wanting to answer, but feeling he had to, in their mutual respect for Danielle and Xavier's schemes for them to work together. "She's secretive. Everything is locked up. She has a rash on the back of her neck and a rope mark around the front."

Roger nodded, repeating his theory. "Somebody is using her, most likely."

"She's getting hurt, most likely."

Roger ignored the contradiction. "Get inside her head. We need to get her moving. By April at the latest, I need her to be herself."

By Roger's tone, Logan detected something more. "Why do you need her?"

"By George, man, did you know?" Roger was impatient, tapping his foot on the carpet. "Danielle is a trained assassin. Who do you think gave her the skills she has now? Me and her brother Jayden, of course! In her depression and lethargy, she isn't up to par. Get her out of it and get the information she has and we can get her back to what she used to be."

Danielle…_an assassin_? It couldn't be, Logan reasoned. She was a good fighter, he remembered as their fights came back to him, but to be someone that she surely was not, a trained killer…it was out of the question. It was tough enough to accept from the townsfolk of Salem Center that she was a party girl who used to drink like it was out of style. It was with sympathy that he recalled that she grew up in a tough world and mostly alone. Rolling the name in his head, Logan couldn't imagine the redheaded woman, one who would have fiercely protected what was hers, to be a true killer, either for herself or for hire.

It was a preposterous idea. However, the more serious Roger grew in the silence, the more Logan believed him. There had been no reason for him to lie. Why now?

"How do I know I can trust you?" Logan simply asked, inquiring the same of Magneto not that long ago.

"You don't have a choice, do you?" Roger stopped appearing so stern and serious and relaxed himself for a moment. "Give me a chance, Logan. I've known Danielle as long as she's been alive, her parents longer than that through community circles. I love her as much as you do and want her to stop wallowing in the misery life has given her. Well, I mean, man, you _do_ love her still, right?"

It was a question Logan was taken back from. Of course, he still loved Danielle, but the passion they had in their relationship, the chaste understanding, was not there anymore. Inside of Danielle was an empty shell that registered that he was there and living, but had not made the step to re-establish something. She was hiding something more from him too, a dark thing that had yet to be revealed.

Roger saw the conflict in Logan's mind and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Later, we'll talk. Tell my wife I'll be back in a few hours. I'm sure those women have some catching up to do after all that cleaning that needs doing."

The two men did not say a word of farewell to each other, but they understood the other perfectly…for the moment. As Roger left, the cold air escaping into the house briefly, Logan had to wonder what the two women, with two energetic children (who had already drained him of energy from his talks of the world), would be talking of up there. Danielle had mentioned that Mae was coming over to clean her husband's things, but what was now conspiring up there? And why was he meeting these people now, after all this time?

Also, would the Mortimers be willing to help? And if so, how far would it go?


	9. Tangled Torment

Mae and Danielle had managed to clear out most of Leon Ellis' things and were slowly inching toward personal items he had not mentioned in his will. The two piled each into keeping and donating, but had said nothing in the errands done outside the bedroom, even though Mae had mentioned catching up on things. The older woman wanted to know how her brother died, although she had been estranged with him for years and spat in his face on each meeting, and was hoping to gain something from Danielle. As the boys played in their room, she sought the private thoughts of their mother and perhaps something of the good brother she knew was there long ago.

After the clothes had been sorted, Mae moved to a linen closet in the hallway, trying to put the extra things away, but was soon buried in a pile of clothes and boots on the floor. Laughing (and recognizing that all had been Logan's), she called Danielle over. She demanded as explanation in a joking manner, but was met with nothing more than silence.

Mae extended a hand up, which Danielle grasped weakly. Helping her up, Danielle only said to Mae, "I'll return the rest of those today. I needed to get them out of the way this morning, when he was showering."

"Oh, Logan?" Mae asked lightly, trying to be casual when she saw easy turmoil in Danielle's eyes. "Why don't you run those clothes through the rinse cycle first before handing them back? I know it's not a lot and he doesn't care, but it might mean something to him. Even that leather jacket and boots might need a scrubbing."

Hurt quickly ran over Danielle's face. Mae saw it, but kept her mouth stilled. It was enough that salt was rubbed into a wound that she originally thought was healed some time ago. Now, with Logan back and working them with (if Roger can get past his stubbornness too), Danielle was upset, although not in the inner circle of the plan. Her questions asked why he was back, but none would be forthcoming. In time, Mae reasoned, she would figure it out, be mad and then forgive. After all, what was a few months of working when they needed to down the enemy?

Danielle picked up the pile of clothes and boots. Without saying another word to Mae, she migrated downstairs. There, without Roger around (and the truck missing from the driveway, Mae figured he was off shopping), she spotted Logan, still drinking his beer on the couch. Mae, behind her, watched her from a position at the stairwell. From there, she could see Danielle walk in front of Logan, depositing the clothes in a pile next to him, the boots to the floor. Logan's interest was caught as he finished the last of the bottle and turned to Danielle.

"You loved her too, didn't you?" Danielle demanded of Logan in a cold, calculating tone. "You loved Jean still, even when we were together, didn't you? Even when she was in love with Scott?"

Logan said nothing, visibly shocked that Danielle would speak to him in a manner like that. He was as accused as a criminal, put on a spot for something he had put behind him some months ago. He wasn't even sure why she was bringing it up.

Luckily, Danielle saw the embarrassment in the situation immediately and changed her words. Worried that she might scare Logan off again, she switched personalities almost and asked, "Are you comfortable?"

"Do you have more beer kicking around?" Logan asked as a way of answering.

Mae had to stifle a giggle. She didn't want the two to notice her though and was silent.

"Do you want anything washed?" Danielle inquired, trying not to get exasperated with the questions too.

Logan took an article of his old clothing – his leather jacket – and sniffed it, a slightly musty smell perpetrating the air. "Nope. They're ok."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. You can tell me what this was about."

"What was?" Danielle feigned confusion, trying to hide her pain when she had just recently spilled her poison.

"The questions. Why are you asking me these things? I thought the past stayed where it belonged. It shouldn't cloud the future."

The words sounded like what the Professor would have said. It was almost like he was there too, calming her like he did all those years ago…but he was not. Instead, Logan sat there, staring at her and expecting an answer. While he was not angry, inquisitiveness shone.

"I don't know how anything can pick back up after over two years," Danielle finally explained after a length of time without words, slowly and with careful meaning behind them. "What did you want me to do when you stood in my doorway, Logan? Let you go to the wolves or start where we left off? Hell, I didn't notice where that happened, but when. I couldn't see what was going through your mind back then, even if I had the abilities to…or mine either. Things have changed, Logan, and maybe it's for the better. Time will tell."

Danielle then turned around, passing Mae. While Logan continued to sit there, confused, Mae followed Danielle. The two stepped upstairs, passing Michael and Riley chasing each other in sheeted capes and paper airplanes, and settled in the hallway before what had been Jayden's room. Danielle slumped her body against the wall, sliding down with shame and hiding her face in her hands. Mae followed her, but chose to kneel next to her.

Many phrases rocked Mae's mind, but none would make it better or tell her that it was ok to be a bitch at times when she was hurt. Simply stating the obvious was going to be too much too or even saying it will be ok was corny. Instead, she pulled close Danielle to her, wishing that she would cry and get it out of her, but Mae only received an arm around her neck in return.

Danielle hardly cried. That much Mae knew, all from her times with the family.

"Have you even gone shopping yet for the boys?" she asked Danielle, aware that Christmas was three days away and there was a perfect window of opportunity for her and Logan to be alone and to talk things out. "I'm sure it'll be crowded, but it'll be nice to get out of this dreary place."

"I don't have anyone to take the children." That statement told Mae enough, miserable as it sounded too.

"You know Roger and I don't mind Michael and Riley around the house," Mae replied cheerfully, although she already pictured Roger being annoyed with the two, as he had been in the past (although he was somewhat attached to Gil when he was at a young age). "We'll take them for a few hours and you can consult with Santa privately. Take Logan with you. Sound like a plan?"

There was something about Danielle's posture that told Mae something. Danielle used to have opinions of her own, kept her head up and shouted people down when they hurt her. Now, she was a mess. She didn't know what she wanted, was already in pain when seeing her old lover and could possibly be counting the days, just as Mae was doing, when they would come for her and the children. It was all Mae could do to shake her and get her to listen, but even then, she could perceive that there was no way to get through to Danielle…yet.

"I guess," Danielle only said, not wanting to ask Logan to come along. Mae saw this too and unwrapped her arms from Danielle, putting the one arm around her to Danielle's side.

"Leave Logan to me," Mae declared. "I'll be right back. Let me talk with him."

Without staying for a response (and sure that there wasn't going to be one), Mae ran downstairs, seeing that Logan had moved from the couch to the refrigerator. An empty bottle was on the counter already, Mae observed, and more was surely to come out and be drunk. It might be easier when he was more relaxed to talk, but you could never tell with Logan. He kept to himself for the most part (although he was outspoken sometime) and had, as far as Mae knew from others, never shown his true feelings. Then again, she had yet to introduce herself. Roger had some time back and was not impressed with him, but they had to do the best they could with the current events under the circumstances.

As Logan rummaged through to grab another beer, Mae forwarded herself shyly, playing the quiet one, and said, "I don't think we've been introduced."

"Huh?" Logan tried standing up, but hit his head on top of the refrigerator. Cursing softly, he pulled out, but without his beverage.

"Uhh, Logan," he only said, closing the door behind him in an irritated manner, mostly at himself for being so clumsy.

"Mae Mortimer." Mae did not extend her hand, but she smiled a welcoming grin to show friendship. "You've met my husband already, I'm sure."

"Yeah, what a piece of work he is," Logan muttered, already bored with the pleasantries. "Listen, I don't know what you want from me, but whatever it is, I have yet to find anything out."

Mae cracked a mischievous grin this time, but did not laugh to the answer she had a question for. "I have some clues myself, but it's just suspicions. I have nothing solid."

"What's her problem then?" Logan jerked his thumb to the stairs, referring to Danielle. Mae noticed that he was not mad, but curious. Whether it was from care or gossip, she could not discern, but whatever it was, it seemed a little too indifferent for her.

_Xavier must have Logan on the mission and have his personal feelings aside. Danielle is the clue to the puzzle, but that next piece is going to be a dozy to get through to. If Logan was to resume his relationship with Danielle, it might calm them both down, but also make things more complicated. There is now leverage to use against the other, although I'm sure that Logan can survive most things…even death of a loved one._

"Well," Mae began in a somewhat condescending manner (and one she didn't care she had), "if someone you loved was traumatized and bottled it up, leaving in the middle of the night to battle his own demons, how would you feel?"

Logan gaped at Mae in her defense of Danielle.

"In the two and a half years since you've been gone, many of us had to clean up the mess Danielle turned into," Mae explained, not willing to divulge specific details just yet. "She felt guilty for what happened, all of it. She realized the necessity of having Jean dead and accepted her death, even though she had mourned her dead for a long time already. However, after you killed the Dark Phoenix, even Danielle could tell something was wrong with you. You didn't talk to her and refused to. You were depressed. Then, you disappeared some time later without a word. She was hurt most of all, but I think her own depression was getting to her too. Either way, all this time, she had been fighting too.

"She has her demons too, Logan, demons I could hardly talk about. Like most people, I respect her privacy and her ways of going around it because she has own her way to telling others who she is. But those days after you left…she didn't know what to do with herself. She dove into her children, I suppose, but the drive was slowly drying up. Some mornings, she hardly got up. Other days, she was so angry that she could do anything in her power to keep them protected. She especially aimed her hatred towards Leon. His death must have devastated her in a way, but there was little sorrow.

"I wasn't there when the mansion was invaded four months ago, but I heard stories around town, stories that made my skin crawl. Children were gunned down when they didn't comply with the orders. Adults stared in wonder as, one by one, their loved ones died. Hatred bred inside of each of them, Logan, a hatred I cannot understand, but I can empathize. It's a complete sense of utter helplessness, an empty feeling that, no matter what you've done, nothing seems to work…and nothing ever will. And I guess that describes Danielle too much."

Logan stared at Mae in wonder. It was the most anyone had told him about Danielle without acting coy and evasive. Granted, he learned little pieces when he lived with her (and had asked others too), but from someone who grew up with Danielle…it was amazing to hear some truth from a person who had seen it and was honest about the reply.

"I guess nobody's told you much, have they?" Mae laughed at Logan's open-mouthed face and took the liberty of taking him by the hand to the living room. "There's a reason for it, like I said. Now, let me show you something that nobody else has either."

"What?" Logan was still interested as to the scene that just happened, but was not prepared for what was going to be shown.

Mae had seated him on the couch. While Logan sat in his usual seat and opposite of her, Mae seemed to be prepping him for something. She straightened out his hair and rubbed his forehead gently. She said nothing, but the motions interested him more.

"What are you doing?" Logan finally asked after five minutes of ministrations.

"I need you to be calm, as calm as you can be," Mae instructed, placing her fingertips on Logan's temples. "Like Danielle, I can memory jump. I can't read minds and manipulate like she can, but this might assist you in your journey and what we've been looking for."

"So, what _do_ they call you?" Logan snickered, trying to do what he was told, but failing miserably…and fast.

"Pixie," Mae replied enthusiastically. "I've got wings that I don't like showing and a mind that likes to play tricks with your memories. It's all true and undistorted, but it's just how you see it is up to you."

"So, where are we going?"

Mae thought for a moment before answering Logan's last query. "I would say 1994, something blissful and cheerful. It was a moment in which was one of my happiest, but it might give you an insight into who Danielle was and used to be…and could be in the future."

Before Logan could ask something else, he felt his mind blank out into a tunnel.

* * *

**It might be boring for a little but with these chapters, but I swear that there's action. I can't say when chapter-wise, but know that it's coming. Because I'm using characters barely explained in the previous story (like Mae Mortimer and Peter Ellis), things need to be set straight, just like its predecessor. If you're confused, shout out. Thank you! :)**


	10. Foolish and Egotistical

It was almost like a journey without walking, but Logan knew it to be forced and pushed. Before he knew it, as the grey tunnel narrowed and deposited him somewhere in the past, he was in the farmhouse's kitchen. It was different to him though, but he recognized it well. The place was as grey as the tunnel and swirling around him like smoke from a hookah, but it was also decorated differently and the same somehow. There was no dishwasher, the appliances were almost like a movie cut from the eighties and the tiled counters were solid wood. There was no island in the center of the room like there was today, but a full bar to the far left wall next to the stairwell, where the same stools for the island were placed.

In this memory, according to Mae, it was 1994, about eight years before Logan met Danielle. It was also three years before that murder that Logan deducted had happened in 1997: the murder of Jayden Mitchell, Danielle's older brother.

Logan turned left and right in the kitchen, almost in slow motion, as if to feel his new position, when he heard some footsteps above him. Diving into what was the mudroom (and was opened to him miraculously and left that way for an odd reason), he trembled in seeing a younger, familiar woman running down the stairs, a tape deck and cassettes in her hands. Dressed in a fashion meant more for bars and dancing (complete with long, loose hair, a tank top that barely covered and jeans that rode the ass), the woman swung her wide hips in tune to some music in her head and ignored the misty figure in the mudroom.

It was Danielle.

"Jay!" she called out in the direction of the stairs without turning her head. "Come _on_! I need to get this party started!"

Mae, some fifteen years younger, appeared suddenly from the living room, but hearing the young woman being so bossy made her come out from the woodwork. "No need to shout, Danielle," she said to the young woman. "Roger will be here any moment. I'm sure his friends will manage to bring him."

"Well, he's all that's missin' from this party…excepting a few more guests with the booze." Danielle swung her hips in a defiant manner and smiled at Mae, unwilling to allow herself the chance to obey a woman much older.

Mae took the comment in calmly, but said nothing more as she crossed her arms in a stubborn manner. She was more interested in the stairs and who was coming down them suddenly. Logan followed the glance.

A man then came down the stairs, dressed the opposite of Danielle, but he was much more serious. Obviously military (or ex), the man was cleanly shaven and shorthaired and kept his green camouflage uniform crisp and ironed. He also leaned towards the same looks as Danielle, with the same hazel eyes that turned red on and off in different shades, the small nose that flared when angry and the same height and built, but obviously male. The only difference between the two was the hair color. Danielle's then was a deep auburn with blatant red streaks while the man had dark brown hair, almost black, streaked with thick white.

"We have plenty at the bar, little sister," the man cautioned, eying the bar to his right with anticipation. "For now, at least, we're pretty good on supplies. And you can thank Momma for that too."

Mae turned to the man. "Jayden –"

"Aww, Mae," Danielle whined playfully, still swaying, but this time, heading to a counter. "Give it a rest." She then placed the tape deck there, plugged it in and placed a cassette in. Soon, music blared, but only after Danielle fast-forwarded to a song after some finagling.

_Let me run with you tonight,__  
__I'll take you on a moonlight ride.__  
__There's someone I used to see,__  
__But she don't give a damn for me.__Let me get to the point.  
Let's roll another joint,__  
__And turn the radio loud.  
I'm too alone to be proud.__  
__You don't know how it feels,__  
__You don't know how it feels to be me.__People come, people go,__  
__Some grow young,  
Some grow cold.__  
__I woke up in between__  
__A memory and a dream.__So, let's get to the point.  
Let's roll another joint,__  
__Let's head on down the road.__  
__There's somewhere I gotta go.__  
__And you don't know how it feels,__  
__You don't know how it feels to be me.__My old man was born to rock,__  
__He's still tryin' to beat the clock.__  
__Think of me what you will,__  
__I got a little space to fill.__So let's get to the point.  
Let's roll another joint,__  
__Let's head on down the road.__  
__There's somewhere I gotta go.__  
__And you don't know how it feels,__  
__No, you don't know how it feels to be me._

Logan blinked his eyes for a second, recalling that he too heard the song and scoffed it, and soon smelled something familiar as the music was turned down to a minimum on Mae's motherly insistence. When he peered into the kitchen again, he saw that Danielle had lit a cigarette from a pack hidden in her pants pocket and was smoking like someone who had for a long time. She then passed it to the man named Jayden, who gave her a disapproving glance before grinning and smoking it too.

"Have another?" he asked her when he finished the cigarette and threw the butt into the sink in a perfect shot.

"You two have anything better to do than ruin your lungs at this age?" Mae jumped in on the illegal activity (for Danielle anyway), watching them with muted interest (and more motherly concern). "Danielle, you're fifteen. You're much too young. What would your mother say?"

Logan had to get another look at Danielle, gaping at someone who appeared more than fifteen. From where he was in the mudroom (which oddly smelled like stall cigarettes, alcohol and old vomit), he saw the then-fifteen year old (supposedly). Danielle was about the same height then as she was now, but her hair showed little trace of white (with a strand or two maybe, but it could have been the light). She was slender, showing nothing of the weight gained from two children, but her hips were wide and were used to heavy dancing. If the rumor was right (and Logan was always skeptical about town gossip he picked up), then she might have been a pole dancer.

"I'm not too young." Danielle took out another cigarette and lit it, ignoring the bit about her mother's thoughts (although Logan saw a glance that resembled annoyance and sadness at the same time). "I'll accept cocky, foolish and egotistical, but _never_ young."

"Old, but I'm not that old," Jayden began.

"Young, but I'm not that bold," Danielle finished.

Mae threw her hands up in the air with defeat. "You two are always against me!" she yelled in a mocking manner, but there was a smile behind it. "Two against one isn't a fair fight, especially in mutant terms."

Jayden gave into his impatience wordlessly (apparently showing with his and Danielle's victory) and went to the bar. Pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels and a shot glass out, he poured himself the cool liquor and drank a few shots. He then pulled out two more glasses and poured more into each. Offering them to Danielle and Mae (the former of which had finished the cigarette and stubbed it out on an ashtray behind her), the three toasted.

"To Roger and your marriage," Jayden declared.

The three then drank and Jayden poured three more shots when the glasses hit the bar counter, each of them competing to see who would get there the fastest. They drank again. By then though, there was a knock on the door. The three turned, guilty and caught drinking too early, it seemed. It was then that Jayden went for the door, grinning from ear to ear as redness blossomed under his thick collar.

It was at that moment that Logan was freed from the memory.

The next thing Logan knew, he was back in the living room in 2007. Mae looked at him with expectation, but Logan only returned his at her in more confusion than she anticipated. She realized then that it sated him a little, but barely, leaving him with more questions than answers. He was still putting a piece of the puzzle together and this had hardly assisted him in his quest for knowledge and gathering.

"Cocky and egotistical," he repeated with amusement, a smile on his face.

"She was kind-hearted, but she was also so sure of herself that she did not see some things coming," Mae explained, embarrassed by her comments from years past. "Sometimes, I prefer her from then and not now. She was so…I don't know, so confident and carefree. So much took its toll of her and upon her innocence. I don't think her mutations helped either."

When Logan appeared more bewildered, Mae continued. "Danielle and her brother inherited so much mutation genetically from both of their parents, it wore them down, we theorized…well, the Professor did. They aged quickly, but some things kept them from dying too. I mean, when Danielle was fifteen, she looked like she was in her twenties. When you met her five years ago, she was like she was in her thirties. Now, at twenty-eight, she's almost towards fifty. There's a way to reverse it, but Danielle refuses to use it. Explain some things?"

"What would reverse the aging process?"

"It's something for Danielle to tell, if she's willing to." Mae sighed as she got up, noting the noise above her head. "I best get back. I'm sure she's wondering where I am."

"She'll know where you've been."

Logan's comment startled Mae. She turned back to Logan. "You may be right, but that's for her to speculate and us to know."

Mae then walked towards the stairwell, disappearing from Logan's sight. She leaned into the curve of it, resting her head on the corner wall. She thought she said too much and had started the process of rehabilitating and reconciliation too quickly. Already, she could see the wheels in Logan's mind turning. There was something that was bothering him too, something more than this hiding game that Danielle was playing all this time. Whatever it was, somebody was bound to find out her secrets. Somebody was about to come back and reclaim her and set her and Logan to those camps.

Already, Mae was sure who it was. However, to play that dangerous game had to wait. She was certain it would come…and soon too.

* * *

**A couple of notes here...**

**The full song lyrics are from the song, "You Don't Know How It Feels" by Tom Petty off of his 1994 album _Wildflowers_. The banter between Jayden and Danielle in the memory ("Old, but I'm not that old...") is actually two lines from a song by One Republic called "Counting Stars".**

**Any confusion yet? More background chapters coming up, to mess it all up. Just message if it gets too much. :)**


	11. New Blood Strikes

Peter Ellis looked at the clock at the corner of his office. It was midnight now. After several hours of waiting, researching and writing his reports, he believed that he hit upon what character he was to compete with, the mutant named Logan that Leon had to deal with. After all, if he was to race with this man for Danielle, what better way than to search for weaknesses and go from there?

It was not easy, Peter had to admit, but he found a few things.

Five years ago, Stryker had given Leon a file, which was left in this office for all those years, a copy even digitally put on the office computer at the call center in Tarrytown, Peter soon found out. The hard copy was kept in the desk, which Peter had found recently and read carefully, especially in light of the visit the mutant was paying to Danielle. Compared to what he had achieved in his life, Peter had to count himself lucky that he was not a mutant…and a hunted man for most of his life, to boot.

It had been horrible to admit that the government had been using mutants in their wars. Peter even found it dishonorable that, from the Civil War to Vietnam, this Logan character had been given the chance to fight. Luckily, he escaped with William Stryker after killing his commanding officer during his tenure in Vietnam, but not being causing enough damage. Even the Three Mile Island damage was reported by Stryker, in this file, to be the direct responsibility of this mutant.

Peter closed the file and put it away, feeling a little impressed and small, compared to the crumbs he had to lick up. He had felt he was following in his cousin's shadow many times over, even now, and it should have overwhelmed someone like Danielle, mutant or not. Granted, with his age, he was could almost pass for Danielle's father, like Leon had (there was a twenty-two year difference between Peter and Danielle compared to Leon's twenty-seven), but his experience alone would beat a mutant born in the nineteenth century and with an unknown track record for the most part, except in war.

After all, Peter Ellis (as well as those few in his generation) had been born in a privileged world, but even that gilded cage allowed him to arrive where he was with gladness. The only cousin to Leon and Mae and the last male Ellis of his generation, he grew up with them, since his own parents had died in a tragic car accident when he was six. Since then, from those childish eyes in 1961 and onward, he viewed the world warily, even going as far as following Leon as well (and being threatened by him in the process too). The two had taunted Mae mercilessly when they worked together (her mutation being the top of their list) until his aunt and uncle separated him from Leon, sending Peter to their wizened and wise grandparents in 1968. By then though, Mae was traveling to a friend's house and Leon was going into the Army, so the three were separated for now.

However, Peter was soon excited by the aspect of fighting in Vietnam, urged on by Leon to go. When he turned eighteen in 1973, he immediately signed up, but he was almost too late. While dropped into the jungles for a few months, he was soon pulled out and sent to a desk job, sending others on their way to the humid woods even after the official hostilities were over. By 1975, he was discharged, but not without some recognition for his deeds and a ticket back home to Salem Center.

Afterward, Peter thought this phase up until his 1981 marriage to Mary Belkin aimless, like the military had bought him structure and his discharge shattered it. He didn't know what to do with himself, but had drunk enough to fill an ocean and smoked enough cigarettes to kill his lungs. He could hardly recall what had happened, but that women were his solace and that he had as many as he pleased, with the fortune left to him by the Ellis family elders. By 1981 though, he found himself a soon-to-be father and walking down the aisle of a church with running shoes and a ragged suit on. At the end was the obviously pregnant Mary with her irate father, both of whom stood there, angry and expecting much more.

Peter shuttered to think of his late wife, now buried next to her hated brother and mother. _No_, she had not been like the others, submissive and accommodating. _No_, she had to be different, that Mary Belkin. The only surviving child of wealthy parents who disowned her eventually (and long after her marriage to Peter), Mary had been accused of murdering her brother, a mutant too, and a sibling loved by her parents. His death shattered the family and left Mary bruised and quite neglected by her parents, who seemed to expect more out of her, especially in light of the recent rumors that surrounded her in complete secrecy. Although she was acquitted of the charges, Mary was still whispered amongst the town as a murderess.

"Well, I proved them wrong," Mary stated a week before she died by an assassin's hands, staring at a rare picture of her parents on their living room wall (the only thing that resembled normalcy between the two at their New York home). "And nothing can stop me now."

"I don't think any mutant _can_," Peter muttered from his living room seat, easing himself into a newspaper and ignoring his wife's ranting as a crossword puzzle interested him. "I don't think I can either, for that matter."

Nothing _had_ stopped the pair either from achieving their positions of power. While Mary quickly miscarried three times and had given up on children by the time she decided on a political career (which was stopped time and again because of her gender in a conservative party), Peter was already putting himself to good use. From 1981 onward, he used his GI Bill and went back to school, gaining a law degree and opening his own practice by 1988 with some men he knew from Vietnam with like ideas. However, by this time, they were all seeing Leon rise, elected by the time of Peter's marriage, to public office and more. By the late eighties too, Peter was seeing him sneaking off with Chameleon, which roused his suspicions about where Leon's interests were.

For Leon Ellis though, it was not a time for games, especially with ones so close to achieving a groundbreaking registration act that he too supported. He could not afford to play with the voters and those who had the mutant problem close to their hearts. He had to draw the line and draw it soon.

It was then that Peter was curious, sure that his cousin was getting softer and more secretive with his plans. One night in 1992, when Peter could no longer keep himself from thinking of the many possibilities that it could be (working with mutants being top of his list as taboo), he followed Leon to a bar. This bar ended up being Phineas Teller's (one that was reputed to be serving underage drinkers and mutants and employing girls in their very young adolescence to dance), one that would change his life forever afterward.

In a grandiose style, Peter seated himself under a disguise in a corner and sipped beer given by a pretty young pole dancer (she had to have been thirteen, at the oldest maybe), watching Leon and Chameleon wheel and deal. The two argue all throughout the time, but had kept their fighting in whispers, aiming their glances intermittently at a fellow at the door, presumably a bouncer and one who resembled the mutant Leon was entertaining. They were even served personally by Teller, the owner himself, and often had to conspire with him as well, head down and very interested.

By then, Peter was disgusted. Leon Ellis, _conspiring _with mutants? It was too much, especially in light of his beliefs and policies. He left immediately, paying the perky pole dancer waitress and promising time for another night. But by the time Peter somehow stumbled into bed around three that morning, listening to Mary's loud snoring, he could not figure out how and why his cousin was playing double with everyone and, for that matter, how he got home safely and without being stopped for driving under the influence.

His answers came soon enough. The next day even, as Peter prepared himself to go to the office (ignoring the headache and the lights coming from a hangover), Leon called him, requesting that he drive to New York City and to meet him on Wall Street, by the crowded stairs.

It was early yet, about six in the morning. Mary had not risen from her slumber and was not going to until at least ten in the morning, when Peter was well into his office hours. When that kitchen phone rang and Leon immediately asked that Peter join him, the latter was full of excuses. He had yet to answer his own questions from the night before and did not seem keen to have more of them when meeting his cousin. After all, he was still reeling from the discovery and did not need to confuse his mind more.

"I have a case to prepare for," Pete explained weakly, rubbing his forehead in frustration, especially when his cousin – a man who never liked him in the first place, despite their blatant similarities in many areas – was now pushing him around like a rag doll. "The client is depending on me, Leon, to get through this case. It's a pretty tough, especially with it so open and shut, but –"

"Listen…and listen _carefully_, Peter," Leon interrupted rudely, his tone snide and unforgiving. "I need _you_ here and here _soon_. You do what I say and nothing will happen to you and Mary."

Peter had to snort and snicker out loud. The threats he was used to. The abuse he endured under his cousin was nothing new. And Mary…well, she could hold her own, as Peter had seen. After all, they did not have their happy days as a married couple, but Mary was one that would always get the last word in, even if it was throwing a priceless lamp from Europe across the room to smash in the TV Peter had spend hundreds on. Not to mention, gossip around Salem Center always swirled around Mary and her brother's murder, one that she was questioned on and was never arrested for, so violence was never a problem with his wife.

After all, it was certain that Mary had murdered her brother and let his body in a dumpster. Leon Ellis, trying to kill her? _Ha! _Peter stifled his laughter at the thought, knowing that his snort and snicker already angered his cousin.

"One hour," Ellis said to Peter, not directly saying anything regarding the response to his threats. "You're not on the road then and at the meeting place, I'll make sure your life is ruined and linked with people you despise. Understand, Peter?"

The only thing in life Peter hated was mutants. It was clear that Leon had meant that, but how was the question…and one he did not want the answer for.

Without even calling the firm to confirm that he was not coming in and working on the case, Peter raced to his car and drove like a madman to New York City. He parked his car some miles away from Wall Street and walked, grabbing a bottle of water from a street vendor on the way. Although it took some time to spot his cousin on those crowded sidewalks, Leon Ellis was there, sitting on a bench and looking unconcerned about what was happening.

When Peter sat down wordlessly next to his cousin, he never dreamed of what Leon might say. After a long history lesson, and one in which Ellis had to repeat once more and again, Peter understood why he was using Chameleon. It was not to work together and keep Chameleon off the radar, as the mutant was thinking perhaps, but to use him as a means of war. And war was always on Leon's mind, trying to up his standing in Washington, and war was going to come sooner or later. All Ellis had was Trask and their weapons and Colonel William Stryker, who was also using military money to work on the mutant problem.

It was the plan for the bomb naturally, but when that was defused by mutant powers in 2002 (by Danielle, of all women!), things had to change. War was coming regardless, with or without the bomb, but Peter could debate that for hours and get nowhere on how to detain it. The best part for him now was that it was achieved and that his and Leon's dreams were becoming a reality.

_It's too bad that Leon and Stryker are not here to see it._

The rise of Peter Ellis had been too easy as well. Leon had arranged for him to build up his career, in case he was assassinated by mutants (he had a fear of Chameleon, to be exact, and Peter was sure he was the culprit), and to succeed him in that case. Naturally, this was on his word and passed onto many, including Mary, but those did not see him worthy commented little. After all, it took until 1998 for him to be elected to the House by a slim margin (and that had taken some time). Afterward, it wasn't until 2005 when Leon stepped down from the Senate and Peter filled his shoes. By then, Leon Ellis had stepped into the most important role, one he had been waiting since 2002 to fill: Director of Mutant Affairs.

Leon Ellis had beaten Hank McCoy to the finish line. And since the position had been his from the start (as he played the puppet master to a Democrat, who was weak enough to control for three years), Leon had split up the office and margined off the States into sections to deal with the problems. From there, he appointed Mary to the Midwestern section, Peter to the Eastern section and another follower to the Western section. All reported to him, but all had also the means to master the mutants into submission.

Already, because of Magneto's attack in San Francisco and the injury and death of many mutants and humans on that night at Alcatraz, Leon Ellis had the control to do as he pleased with the time left to him. While many had held the olive branch after that assault, Leon had snatched it away and stomped on it. He turned the military domestic, sighed with relief when the new president agreed to his every word, and concluded his long wished-for treaty with Mexico and Canada.

The borders closed. The leash tightened. The camps were now being built in full view of all.

There were protests of course. Peter had expected it. But tensions grew to a boiling point and one in which had full public support. The majority ruled and the mutants were slowly being sent away and killed. Some were even being lynched in the streets and in their homes. While sympathetic humans were left alone for the time being, Pete estimated that time was short for them too. The Sentinels would take care of them too…

_One in the morning._

Peter looked up again at the clock and sighed. He had a report to finalize about this Logan character before he could turn in with his whore, who was surely waiting anxiously for him. From there, he can plan accordingly. After all, this boss from higher up, someone that even Leon had kept a secret from him (and perhaps in his conscious mind too), was waiting for s status update. As Peter soon figured out, he was not one to keep awaiting, even if this one was in the next building over and could perhaps walk over.

The tired Peter had to wonder why Leon had kept this boss undisclosed, washed away as he was over the schemes he planned and the toys from Trask he got to play with. Perhaps Leon had nothing to fear, confident that his dreams had been reached without a higher power disturbing them? Perhaps Leon was given the power to do as he pleased, while Peter, sitting late into the night, was allowed no sleep and little fun?

It was through a quick flip of the calendar that Peter planned his next visit to the farmhouse, something he aimed on doing since Thanksgiving anyway. Michael and Riley Ellis had been scheduled to be deported in February to the main Kansas camp, but an early start was not an issue, even if it was a month earlier. Peter was one hundred percent certain that two powerful child mutants were easy to put away. With the public behind him, Peter stood no chance of resistance from those two sons of Leon's.

All Peter had to contend with was Danielle and Logan. The former was easily disposed of, Peter thought, as he thought back to Stryker's little supply long stashed away within easy reach. The latter, however, had to be dealt with carefully. For, if Peter remembered from the files, Logan was immortal, and was infused with adamantium.

There had to be a weakness somewhere. And that someone was perhaps Danielle.


	12. Unconcerned

_Find the cost of freedom,  
Buried in the ground.  
Mother Earth will swallow you.  
Lay your body down._

Logan remained still on the coach as the record played very softly on the stereo early the next morning, contemplating the known facts of a situation as the music washed over him and the needle stopped when side A had finished. Interestingly enough, Danielle still had her vinyl and cassettes (even though most had been converted to CD or were on her laptop digitally already) and kept them under a thick sheet of dust in a cabinet in the living room entertainment stand, even her old MP3 player. When the mood struck Logan (and when Danielle was not looking and busy elsewhere, namely sleeping), he popped one of them on the stereo late that night, long after Mae had left him more confused than ever. Sine then, he had been playing one album after another, allowing everything to push him over, like a wave.

What was strange to Logan was that music had been missing in the household. It had taken a while for him to realize it, but when he did, he had to ask himself why, especially seeing as how he recalled Danielle always dancing to music day and night. And while the night before had taken place as quietly as the last (without recognizable music blaring in the background), he had to list the strangeness of the mission ahead of him now and why Xavier and Magneto had him start here, of all places.

In fact, many things were out of place in this household. Too many questions had answers already, but those answers were currently giving rise to more of them.

Why would Xavier and Magneto have him start with Danielle, of all people? How had they _known_ where she was and why? And why would she be the initial key to getting the X-Men back together?

Danielle was obviously hiding something. What was it? And, more importantly, _who_ was torturing her? Why wouldn't she turn to those she trusted? Why, most of all, could she not speak?

The Mortimers…where do they still fit into the mystery and why did Logan have to deal with them, Roger most of all? How could they assist him? How did he known that one (or both) of them were involved in something more sinister?

The questions swirled. Logan rubbed the balls of his hands into his eyes, thinking. It was habit that he got caught into for some years, but it was one he did not relish. He cleared his mind quickly, listening for the familiar footsteps seconds later that told him that the household was alive, but found none yet, even the children. Granted, he was not anticipating this trip into town he had to ask to join, but since Mae has asked him of it before she left with Roger yesterday evening before dinner, he had to accept the baby steps given to him.

Besides, Logan had to admit, the trip might yield some information.

"Do it for Danielle," Mae begged drastically in a whisper to Logan as Danielle cooked dinner in the next room, Roger waiting for her in the doorway with a disapproving glance for staying longer than expected. "_Please_, Logan, she needs this."

Logan had a feeling that Mae was trying to play matchmaker when he was not ready to tackle that (the look in her eyes suggested a romantic and annoying nature) and she had apparently promised Danielle something, but he said nothing. He only crossed his arms in a customary manner and toyed with the unlit cigar wedged in his fingers. He was craving his time alone and did not want nagging family members on his case. He also was annoyed that he was still banned outside when he wanted his cigar.

"I'm planning on taking Michel and Riley tomorrow anyway," Mae continued in a hush. "You can't stay here alone. It's known to house mutants. Finding you would be the least of Danielle's worries. Then, she'll never find you again and you won't see her alive again either. She'll be taken away just after you and the children."

Logan had to snort. People had tried to kill him many times over the course of his life and nobody had come close really, save for Yashida. Even then, Logan had to concede only to himself, it was underhanded and sneaky, but he had survived thanks to Mariko and Yukio. After that, as he told Riley and Michael, he went around the world for a while, met up with Xavier and Magneto at the airport and now, somehow, ended up here, threatened with his life.

There was nothing worse than someone underestimating him. Logan was sure Mae was kidding.

"Logan, be serious." Mae took Logan to one side of the dining room, where Danielle, Roger and the children in the kitchen could not hear. "Trask has developed many things beyond even our imaginations. Even you are not immune to their torture."

Mae let Logan go, leaving with Roger after saying her farewells to Danielle and the kids. Logan did not want to ponder upon the implication of her words, but when he did, he had to shrug his shoulders. Oh, well, nobody had been able to nab him yet and manipulate his unique powers, he admitted again. He was sure that he could take care of himself, especially with Danielle shopping for something as inconsequential as Christmas gifts for the kids. Granted, Logan understood that Riley and Michael would be excited, but worries about his mutation were unfounded.

"_You're not an animal, Logan. What you have is a gift…"_

Immediately, Logan had to shake those words out of his head. _I think I can take care of myself._ It was his gruff and stubborn reply silently in his mind, mostly to reassure himself of the fact that nobody had succeeded…yet.

That morning though, as the obvious noises of a record needing to be turned echoed through the speakers, Logan sat up and walked to the stereo. He paused for a moment, reaching over to move the needle and flip the record. When side B was ready to be played, he heard the light footsteps again. Sighing to himself, he put the needle back on its stand and closed the turntable lid and hot the power button. He turned just in time to see Danielle, who ignored him again, lost in her morning tasks. She immediately went to the sink, washing the dinner and dessert dishes from the night before and putting some of them in the dishwasher to be cleaned later.

It was almost like a routine, Logan had to note. She avoided him like he wasn't there and put all of her energy into something else, like cleaning the house, disciplining the boys and sorting her husband's things, in order to avoid the inevitable. She wasn't just hurt. She was anguished.

Logan slowly crept towards the kitchen, trying a tactic that would avoid a knife in his head again. Clearing his throat in a dramatic manner (and sure that Danielle heard him approach), he asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Huh?" Danielle turned the water off and inclined her head in Logan's direction. "Go where?"

"Well, I thought you were leaving the kids with your sister-in-law and commercially celebrating a holiday that was supposed to promise peace and wellbeing."

Danielle was quiet for a minute, thinking too. While she was less than amused by Logan's sarcasm (and his aversion for all holidays, his chosen birthday included), she supposed that having him along, especially when things were tough out there for mutants, was a better idea than going alone. In the past, she even remembered him being a good protector, a knight almost, and was good at keeping the bad away. He also kept his promises when he made them, shown to Danielle through the scan of his memories from the time he was away.

"It's to cheer them up, I suppose, all things considering," Danielle explained slowly, sighing. "I guess you can come. But you are _not_ driving."

Logan had to comically pout.

"Need I remind you of the _last_ time you drove?" Danielle asked him, a small glimmer of her old self now showing.

Logan stayed quiet. As he recalled that incident, he seemed to picture himself at a bar some years ago, being picked up by Danielle at some late hour, and insisting on driving, since he could not get drunk and she was tired from the kids running her ragged. The two were sleeping in the back seat anyway (Riley was still in the infant seat and in diapers, Michael curled next to him, and at that point, Devon mostly stayed at the mansion), but were hardly noticing the police officer that followed them from the bar back to the farmhouse. Danielle noticed, but she did not tell Logan about it, choosing instead to explain to the officer that stopped them in the driveway that Logan was Canadian and produced some false paperwork Logan did not know she had.

It was equally amusing to take the sobriety test too. The officer was confused as to why Logan could drink that much (watching him closely, Danielle figured) and pass as if he had not had any beers all night.

"So?" Logan arched an eyebrow.

"_So_," Danielle replied in a chatty manner (like nothing had happened almost), turning back to her chore and rinsing the few more soapy dishes. "At a time like this, I don't want to attract too much attention. You've caused enough stirring in town. And everything has changed, Logan, and it's turning out bad. Being invisible seems to be the best option."

"I don't seem to have that ability," Logan said in his sarcastic tone. "Tell me how to and I'll gladly follow. No, wait, _everybody_ seems to think that anything can kill me. Last I recalled in my hundred plus years of living in this hell of an Earth, nothing _can_ kill me."

Danielle bit back her own cynical response and instead nipped at her lower lip, concentrating on her task and the different directions her mind was going. "Regardless, I'd love for you to come along."

Logan stood back, amazed. Normally, the Danielle he knew would have fought back, screamed at him unfairly and rationalized the situation later. The knife throwing from the day before was _nothing_ compared to the fights they got into after the kids went to bed. Granted, it had taken Logan some time to get used to the kids (and boy, did he not like Riley waking up at all hours of the night until he was almost a year old) and they had some instigating schemes of their own (Devon included), but he had to accept Danielle as not just his, but theirs as well.

It was a dual role that took its toll. And it was unfair of Logan to demand so much from someone with so little to offer, but he was too used to single women and without complications, like families and kids. After all, Logan _hoped_ he wasn't a parent somehow, even if he felt like one before leaving.

That had to have left some toll on Michel Riley and Devon too, one Logan eventually hoped to fix. Even if Devon had not taken too much to Logan, being the little brat bastard Logan figured him to be, he was still much a child of the household and was loved dearly.

_Speaking of which…_

"Where _is_ Devon anyway?" Logan asked randomly as he thought of the petulant child, still trying to find words in the resignation he saw.

Danielle said nothing, but her eyes betrayed too much. She turned away, trying to hide that despair again, but Logan saw it through a reflection in the window in front of Danielle. Logan could not tell what the situation was, but surely Devon was gone. Where he went and how, he could not see, but it was a sore spot with Danielle and one that she did not want to talk about. That too seemed to be best left alone, but another mystery yet to be solved.

Danielle finished up what she was doing, not giving Logan any more leeway into the present. "I'll wake Michael and Riley," she only said, her anxiety slowly returning. "Mae is going to pick them up. Why don't you get ready now?"

It was then that Danielle disappeared upstairs, presumably to get presentable herself. In the meantime, Logan walked back to the living room, standing in front of the stereo. With a wistful touch, he glazed the top of the turntable with his hand, wishing already that he did not have to go. He was more interested in exploring his new inner self, discovered while in Canada, with the memories given back to him after almost thirty years without, but sighed. The mission was going sideways already (information be damned now) and needed to be back on track.

After all, Logan had to tell himself, it would be effortless to jump out of the commercialism and head back. He could detach himself and search more for the clues. It might be easier than to do some shopping for kids he had not seen in over two years. It might be easier to even play the unconcerned one and walk away.

Or, so he thought.


	13. Don't Speak

The ride to the mall had been a quiet half hour drive. While Mae was eager in taking the kids as she drove in and was offering them full promises of cookies and hot chocolate all afternoon, Danielle was feeling the same way, except in wanting to leave. As soon as Mae left with Michael and Riley, Danielle and Logan immediately got into the CRV and drove away in the opposite direction, Danielle hoping that it was not obvious to the kids that she was belatedly thinking of them this time of year, since it was two days before Christmas Day. She felt almost guilty in doing it, since she used to be a better playing Santa, but this year was different…_very_ different.

It was a good thing Logan said nothing, Danielle told herself without adding more guilt in her soul. It made everything less problematical. It made her not remember all those good and bad times they had, although the latter part of their relationship from times past was more bad than good, but not between the relationship. It made her drift into another time and place, before Logan made everything complicated and confusing, but that too made Danielle not want to walk down a pathway best left alone.

Instead, Danielle's mind concentrated on the road ahead, slowly taking in light snowflakes of fluff. As Logan smoked his illegal cigar in relative peace (the kids not in the car and him feeling relieved about it), she inhaled the familiar and comforting scent. Even the leather jacket Logan always wore had calmed her as something akin to normalcy, somehow making the situation more common than it had been in a while.

Within ten minutes, Logan had the stereo on, allowing the snowflakes inside as music drifted out along with the ashes. Cigar still in mouth, he finagled the buttons, trying to recall the stations that Danielle used to listen to, but instead chose the scan button when none of them came up with anything interesting. It randomly stopped on a station and he was about to skip to another when Danielle made it stop. The first lines of the song even made Logan shiver visibly, hoping that Danielle did not see that the song was bothering him.

_You and me, we used to be together,__  
__Every day together, always.__  
__I really feel that I'm losing my best friend.__  
__I can't believe this could be the end._

Soon, Danielle was softly singing along after the first verse. Logan barely heard her, but he found her lips moving hard to believe.

_It looks as though you're letting go  
And if it's real, well, I don't want to know_

_Don't speak,  
I know just what you're saying.  
So please stop explaining.  
Don't tell me cause it hurts._

The song soon ended and it went to the next song, the atmosphere between them like nothing happened, like there was a slap in the face between the two. Logan hardly paid attention to it, but was more interested that Danielle had an expression of pain around her (past the lyrics), albeit it was amused, and it encased her face in a twisted memory. He waited as patiently as he could, but soon found that no words could make it come out.

"You know, I saw No Doubt in concert some years ago, as a birthday gift," Danielle finally said, turning into a lane and stopping at a light near the mall. "Jay took me to see them in 1996 after begging him for years to. It was just him and someone he liked, me, an ex of mine, Jean and Scott. I don't remember why all of us went, but it was one of the few good memories I had with both Jean and Scott. Great night, great music."

Logan could not find any words to say again. It was the first time Danielle volunteered any information about herself. He knew her music taste were based all over the place and that she was a wild character when she was younger, but to think of her as a person who socialized, had friends and had fun, especially with people all gone…it was difficult to imagine. She was sitting in there in the car, Logan seeing her so defeated after all of that.

_Where had all of that gone?_

Even mentioning Jean and Scott was a first for her. After their deaths some time ago, Danielle refused to talk about them, Jean especially. She reached out for Logan instead when words failed her, knowing somehow that something was wrong with him, denying her inner turmoil as lover to the fiend who killed Jean. She even said nothing about her sense of loss especially after the Professor has been supposedly killed off, choosing too to keep the pain away. And Logan guessed that everyone felt the same way, just lost and without a guide in the dark. He especially felt it the worst.

And what was it like for those closer to the Professor, who thought him dead all this time? Logan had an idea that Xavier had a love interest some years before, but nobody could tell him who it was and would snicker to hear about it, especially Hank McCoy, who only mentioned to listen to the voice that allowed him into Cerebro. Magneto had shown no remorse, not even at Alcatraz, but Logan had a feeling that some sense of pain crossed that creep's mind, even if he was constantly trying to end human existence. And Hank McCoy too…well, Logan was sure he did not know of Xavier's little tricks, but was surely seeing that the upcoming politician was at a loss of words, not sure if the school can go on without its leader.

Jean…what had it been like for her, to know that she (well, almost in retrospect) killed her mentor, the same teacher that had controlled her great powers to make sure that she was safe? It was unkind surely, but Logan saw that kept them all safe. He also saw that she and Xavier were closer, almost like Danielle and him, and shared a close bond, a mental one that did not end in death.

Before Logan knew it, his thoughts brought him back to where he was. As he began aware of where he was, he realized that Danielle was trying to find a parking spot in a crowded area. He glanced around the car as he sensed threats, seeing more light snow and even eggs smeared all over the windshield and that the back passenger side window was cracked, spider web-like lines in it. When he turned to Danielle for an explanation, she sensed his uncertainty and shrugged her shoulders with indifference.

"I guess it happens when I go out sometimes," she offered weakly, as a way of explanation (or an excuse, more or less). "People know who I am and what I am."

"How often does this happen?" Logan asked, worried.

Danielle was silent.

"I asked if this happened often," Logan repeated in a tone louder and sterner than the last. He was frustrated, but also angry that Danielle said nothing to him throughout the trip after dazing away. "Do you know who assaulted you?"

"It's not important," Danielle replied flippantly, finally finding a parking space and easing the CRV into a stop. "Come on, Logan. Let's go inside."

Logan could not argue, much as he wanted to. Seeing Danielle not care about what happened to them felt a deep pit in his stomach. His anger retreated, but it remained inside of him, eating at him. He put it aside for the moment, wanting to spend some time with Danielle and study her further, and got out of the car. When he closed and locked the car from his side, he passed the crack in the back window. He fingered it gingerly, like it would break at his very touch, but moved away like he was bit a minute later. Indeed, when felt a sharp pain in his finger, he saw the healing from a cut on the finger.

Danielle was way ahead now. Logan watched her carefully after the healing as he tried catching up with her fast pace, seeing that she was ignoring the obvious ridicule she was receiving around them. Screams and threats followed Danielle, but she walked on like she was not hearing them. She even defected a rock being thrown at her by hiding behind another car. Logan almost went after the asshole that did the deed, but Danielle stopped him in his mind. It was the first time she had touched him like that, but it was reassuring to him nonetheless, the step in the right direction to him. He relished the touch, but felt it run away as fast as it came.

_Logan, forget it. It'll be everywhere we go. They can't do anything now. Just watch your step and stay with me. I need you._

_You need me?_

Now next to her by the car that shielded her from the blows, Logan saw Danielle's head shake with the realization that she admitted something as weak as feeling him as a need, almost not speaking. She then turned to him, motioning that he come with her. From then on, she closed her mind to him, saying nothing more.

Logan said nothing too. While staring down the hoodlums that kept bothering them, he managed to steer Danielle, without touching her (the slight shoulder touch made her shudder), and get her inside the mall without further incident. While inside though, he had to sigh. The lights and noises blinded him, reminding him that the season had always been too much to handle. He hated it, but kept reminding himself, as tinsel and tree ornaments flashed his colored reflection back at him, that he was doing this as a favor. He had to do something with himself other than think and to make himself a target.

Already, Logan was seeing why Mae was concerned somewhat. And she wasn't too far off with her fears either.

~00~

Some hours later and well into the afternoon (after ignoring the mocking, name-calling and harsh threats), Danielle finally stopped. She dragged Logan from store to store stoically and silently, picking up this thing and that without interest in them or the random questions peppered into the conversations usually. She had not finalized anything up until they reached the food court, where she found something at one store, caught in the corner of her eye, that would have cheered Michael and Riley. As Danielle picked up and paid for several bags of things, as well as wrapping paper and bows (which made Logan chuckle to himself because this was something Danielle used to enjoy back in the day), she directed him towards the food.

"Hungry? She asked Logan, the first words she said since they entered the building.

Logan only followed her, not saying much, the same stance he had since the walk in. He soon was sitting across from several food vendors, each clamoring that they were the best. When Danielle quizzically looked to him for guidance on what he wanted, he motioned to a Japanese sushi bar. Danielle then took two trays from a nearby counter, guessing as to what Logan might like. He was not picky about what he ate (except wanting his beer everyday, which was always supplied in her home anyway), so it was too easy to choose something blindly for him. She then picked out something somewhat appeasing and returned to the table, balancing two trays, a water bottle and a Coke. While Logan eyed the soda with distaste (as Danielle knew he would, since there was nothing stronger), he still took the bottle, opening it and sipping, but left it on the corner of his side of the table.

Danielle took a fork and whirled her food into circles, nibbling little. While Logan ate slowly, watching her too closely for comfort, he noticed how sickly Danielle's pallor was at that moment. While she had turned and lost herself in apathy, she soon appeared to be tired and ill. And she was in no mood for conversation either, but Logan was determined. No information gained by walking meant more baby steps needed to be taken.

Again, this was one assignment he was not enjoying. His care factor was kicking in, but he soon would need to stomp it out.

"So, I don't need to do anything this year, do I?" Logan asked her, remembering holidays past and how Danielle asked (well, _nagged_) at him to do something with the kids.

"No, you don't need to be a part of the celebrations," Danielle whispered when she realized what he asked her, forcing herself to smile and choke back on happier times for the millionth time. She then blinked her eyes a few times, pushing back tears.

"Hey now, babe." Logan put his own fork down, taking Danielle by the chin with his hand. While it was obvious that she did not want to be touched, Danielle struggled with an inner thought that something bad would come of this. "What's wrong, Danielle? What's happened?"

The direct approach had been wrong, but daring. It had made Danielle realize how well the gesture meant, but how naïve it made Logan out to be. Surely, there was always something wrong in her life. She did not want to have Logan as her knight again and have to chase everyone away that hurt her, even if his presence was reassuring in many ways. However, when she saw his eyes, and how resolute he was in not wanting to let go, she relaxed. He still loved her. He had been hiding that since his arrival, but his feelings exploded.

And yet, he still would never say that he loved her and probably never will. Danielle was sure of it.

Gently, Danielle took Logan's hand off of her chin. She placed it back on his side of the table, leaving a touch that even left Logan breathless and wanting more. She too had to control herself as he was, to stop herself from spilling everything out, but almost could not find the proper footing to keep the tension away. Instead, she put a pointing finger to his lips briefly as if to shush him, connecting for the second time that day. While her mind was inside of Logan, Danielle raced for the words to say, giving Logan little to go on, to allow him anything, except for the song heard by the both earlier in the day.

_Don't speak._


	14. An Endless Hole

All of that afternoon, as Logan and Danielle shopped around, Roger Mortimer was busy at home. While Christmas Day was just less than forty-eight hours away, he tapped into his inner circle of spies (many of them with families and at home) while resting in his study. He then proceeded to start asking his men harsh questions on the phone. In that small room, as Mae played with the children and had them assist in baking cookies before dinner, he barked out orders. He demanded a list of visitors to the farmhouse from early August onward, who controlled Leon Ellis' Trask office nowadays and why he had just heard via an assistant some time back that his dead brother-in-law was answering (and ignoring, for the most part) a higher power in Trask.

"I don't care the means of how you get it, just get me those names!" Roger yelled into the phone, slamming it into the receiver audibly and not caring if anyone heard him. He resolved to stay in his study, where he had done all of his work, and ignore the children, figuring that Mae had it all handled, thinking that, after all, it was _her_ idea to leave Danielle and Logan to their devices.

_Damn lovebird of a wife I married…what is she doing? Trying to get those two together? It would be a disaster, especially for the emotional Danielle and unstable Logan._

Hours later, when dusk arrived and the nighttime cold returned and was worse, Roger received his answers. Mae was already cooking dinner and the boys were spread out on the couch and relaxing and watching TV when he got the call. After listening carefully and with silence, Roger wrote everything down on a notepad in code. He then thanked the person on the other end and gently cradled the phone this time, satisfied with what he received. After a quick thought and some hesitation, he called his wife over sternly. Surely, she would like to hear some news, but whatever he was just told had been a little disturbing, to say the least.

"I only have a minute, Roger," Mae explained calmly, closing the door behind her as she entered "Dinner is in the oven and some of it is on the stove, the boys are getting restless and Danielle promised to pick them up in an hour."

Roger muttered something about silly women and interfering, but then cleared his throat and motioned that Mae sit down in front of his desk. "I have something that might concern you."

Mae sat down in the offered chair, perching herself in a pose that showed her proper attention. She remained hushed.

"It appears that your brother was in bigger trouble than we anticipated, if he allowed himself to keep failing like he did some years ago," Roger explained gently, trying to keep the hostile tone out of his voice, especially when it concerned Leon Ellis. "Nobody knew until recently that Leon was involved with someone at Trask that has been calling the shots since its founder was brutally assassinated back in 1973."

"Well, do we have a name?" Mae asked, interested, but waiting patiently for her answers.

"No name yet," Roger sighed. "That's what I am aiming to find out next. However, this one has been monitoring rising stars in the government and has been planning whatever situation we're in now since then and has been successful, I must say, picking up on the anti-mutant movement. Nobody else except your brother and William Stryker has piqued this person's attentions, but now he's taking control since the assassination."

"How does this involve Leon though, Roger? I thought he didn't listen to this person."

Roger saw Mae's confused glance and almost exploded with impatience, but remembered the state of affairs. "Well, this person from Trask liked Leon so much that he pulled strings to make sure that he was senator and would assist in eliminating mutants, since he was becoming popular with the majority opinion of the eighties. Since he and Stryker were best buddies since who knows when, they didn't need monitoring, even with their dealings with Chameleon and Phineas Teller in the eighties and nineties. After their failures, one would keep working until today, which has brought us this horrid present. They had nothing to fear, since they estimated the public to be against mutants. Of course, they were right.

"Now, after the assassination, the obvious choice for taking over would be your cousin, Peter Ellis. As you know, Mae, Peter has not been the best of choices, but had shared in their great enthusiasm and would do anything to bully a mutant. You, of all people, would know that first hand."

Mae said nothing, anxiously waiting for the end of the meeting, which would surely bring bad news. She did not need to be reminded of her own past.

"I do not know what Danielle said to you about how the assassination happened or her role in it was," Roger continued cautiously, "but there have been multiple theories to it, the best being that Chameleon has been up to his tricks again and chose to make his target known. But that's neither here nor there. I am more concerned about Danielle's wellbeing than anything else and when we can use her in the fight. Logan has gotten the hint somewhat and I am sure he is cursing me and this mission. I am hoping that the Professor's prodding will get him motivated. I sure as hell can understand what he needs.

"In the meantime, Mae, I can tell you that Peter is under a thumb. Not to mention, since the assassination, he has been visiting Danielle often, most of the time staying the night, but asking the men that come with him to leave and return in the morning. Whether or not he was told to, I cannot see, but he is fond of Danielle. However, from what has been told to me, he likes to be in her bedroom, he is that much in love with her. There is a supply of serum in the closet, leftovers from Stryker and his adventures, one that would put Danielle under Peter's control. There has been…promiscuous and questionable items lying around her bedroom, most of which has been used against her. Most likely, Peter is using the stuff to control Danielle into doing things that she does not want to do and taking his pleasure.

"And while all of this is going on, Peter has taken Leon's Trask office. It was obvious that this would happen, but I did not think your brother stupid enough to appoint your cousin in charge of his affairs…as well as his widow. I would think it a spur of the moment decision, something very desperate in order to keep business in the family, but one that would have to be changed in the future. Unfortunately for us, it was not changed in time and now, Peter is in charge of an empire that has a head already and one that is surely controlling him too."

"And Danielle? The children?" Mae was soon mesmerized by the information, but had toned her replied to mere whispers.

"I would assume that Peter is raping her and using her good behavior as leverage for the children not to go to the camps, but I would be assuming too much," Roger responded gravely. "I could safely imagine it though. It's not often that you see two men love and hate the same women at the same time, especially two men from the same family. It's impossible not to assume, however, that Peter has taken the steering wheel. He surely has word that Logan is there already and that already spells out danger."

"But the children –" Mae began.

Roger waved her protests with a swift flick of his hand. "The children might not be saved. It all depends on whether or not something can be done about Peter…before this head macho gets out of hand, before he shows himself and his plans, which might not coincide with Peter's. And already, I do not like this."

Mae was silent again. Slowly, she got up from her seat and made her way to a window. Brooding as she smelled dinner needing to be stirred and turned over, she turned back to Roger.

"Remember when we were first married?" she asked him. "Remember the fight with En Sabah Nur?"

Roger quickly was out of his deck chair and came to Mae, posing as if to shut her up. "Hush! Do not speak that name in this house."

"But do you _remember_?" Mae demanded, louder. "Worse yet, they were trying to get a camp set up then for that monster, just as they do now. They could not catch him, that time traveling, powerful mutant. That was when it really began, I felt, that mutant who came by –"

Roger snatched Mae's arms and silenced her through his tough handling. "_Enough_! Nobody needs to be reminded of the past, us most of all. Now that it's becoming the present and future, we must look forward and not backwards. You're becoming too much like Danielle and Logan too, Mae. Face the danger, don't turn away from it."

"When it involves the future of those children, talk to me then about facing danger, because they do not need it." Mae released herself from Roger's grip and pushed him away towards his desk, intent on leaving to attend to dinner. "Those children _are_ our future. Their own mother, still like a child, is barely holding herself up as it is. What kind of future you want to leave them, those two who have already been through this? Both of them have faced death many times before and still stand without flinching. Their father was abusive to them and they still stayed. They still wonder why their world cannot be perfect, but they thought of how they could make it so. Isn't this _enough _for them?!"

Roger grabbed Mae again as she was leaving and turned her to face him. "That isn't the point and you know it, Mae. Those children may be part of the future, but it cannot be changed because we could not help it when it was our turn. We tried the best we could. Logically at this point, the next step would be to wait. Faithless as I think Logan, we must rely on him. The key is Danielle, I think, and trying to free the rest of the X-Men."

"And then what?"

"I would think that we meet with the Professor. I don't know where he is currently, but I have a sneaky feeling that Logan does."

"I don't think so, Roger." Mae sighed, staring at the bubbling pot on the stove in the kitchen that needed her attention. "I really don't think that Logan has a clue as to what he's doing. I think that he's winging it as he goes along, desperate for a scrap of information that would assist him, if it could be found. He's lost, Roger. He's lost, much more so than ever before. And I don't know how to reach him."

"You should be concerned more about Danielle." Roger gently hugged Mae from behind, urging her to the kitchen. "Logan, we can worry about later. He can take care of himself, I'm sure. I'm also sure he'll screw something up, one way or another."

While Roger muttered about Logan and how egotistical he could be, Mae pondered. As she finally dared herself to show herself in the kitchen and stir dinner, the children excitedly asking where she's been, she stared at her front door, wishing that some answer could be had. If what Roger said was true, then there was much more danger than she thought and it would rear its ugly horns soon. If Danielle was being used and Peter too, then there was a larger threat than she even anticipated. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Indeed, Mae wondered as she heard a car in the driveway and the children rushing to it, life was soon becoming a black hole. It was sucking them dry, pushing their resources to an endless opening that did not end. It was giving them all twists and turns that she did not expect, even in the days that she thought that mutants would never have a chance again, and was slowly giving them no reason to live in a world ruled by madness.

It was rapidly becoming an abyss.


	15. Christmas Musings

Snow slowly fell on the dry ground the next morning, this time coating it with its thin blanket. Logan, standing by a window in the living room, was waiting for the excited anticipation of the boys and their belated holiday cheer on the anticipated day. Indeed, as the lights flashed from the tree just put up the night before (and around eleven at night and with an exhausted Danielle, he had to admit with a rare tired shrug), he ignored the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He had not spoken for two days, not since he was asked to at the mall by Danielle. Indeed, Logan continued to only snoop around, but was still finding locked doors and grim faces without even inquiring discreetly. Finding nothing more than that, he stopped the night before to give into the monotony of home life, showing that he was amused that Michael and Riley had yet to see what their mother had gotten them, and just drank his beer on his usual spot on the couch for some hours as dinner slowly approached. After they went to bed though, the fun had yet to unravel.

Now, as Christmas Day dawned with a whisper of wondrous peace (perhaps a façade too), all was quiet. Logan moved aside the window curtain, eager to see the snowfall, but chanced to see more graffiti on the house vinyl siding and on the porch not covered in the white sheets. Letting out a dissatisfied growl, he hid again behind the pretense of safety and put on his leather jacket (which now made its home, resting on the rocking chair), intent on cleaning it up. Unlocking the door, he went outside into the cold, taking out a cigar from his pocket. As he lit it, he went to the garage smoking and found himself determined to search for some cleaning supplies. Granted, he never went in there before (he only knew that Danielle kept some of the heavy-duty supplies in there), but was eager to keep the kids away from the sights outside.

Logan pulled the icy door open roughly when it gave way, feeling the relative heat of the garage envelope him, insulation keeping the room warm. However, he did not expect what was in there. While the CRV did not rest in there and was collecting snow behind him outside, another car and a motorcycle did hide. Logan quickly recognized a black 1990 Chrysler Le Baron convertible and a 1967 Honda CT190 motorcycle. As he entered history noticeably long gone, to escape the snow and cold, he ran his hand across the back of the black Le Baron, feeling dust and age seep inside of him. He then turned around to see the motorcycle, obvious in need of his help. He gaped with surprise and without surrender, wishing that Danielle would hand over the keys, if she still had them. Hell, the convertible was something he could restore easily if Danielle gave him the chance too.

_But that motorcycle…_

Remembering his mission (and eager to surprise Danielle with his requests when the weather was warmer), Logan turned to the wooden shelves, also storing things not touched in years. He pushed some questionable items out of the way (one of them being toys the boys have not used and were placed more in the living room of a nineteen seventies child) and found what he was looking for. Grabbing the chemicals, bucket and some rags, he went back inside (regrettably shutting down what he thought was the first series of clues), running water in the downstairs bathroom tub. Then, he went back outside, scrubbing away the hateful words and pictures with vigor.

Two hours later, Danielle found Logan still cleaning. She decided to sleep in (well, lay in bed for hours anyway), sensing the children still slumbering, and took a chance in disturbing Logan downstairs and wishing him a happy holiday, even if it wasn't to her. Instead of finding him on the couch though, she watched though the door glass as he dripped the colored abhorrence away, muttering to himself as he smoked the cigar and ignored the noxious fumes. Soon, she turned to brewing coffee, sipping her cup twenty minutes later and still watching Logan as she woke up fully. Dishes forgotten and presents dimly recalled under the tree, Danielle grinned with a happiness that she had not felt in years.

It was almost like old times too, she had to admit to herself, but many times made her feel that way since Logan came back to them. However, a whim came over her. Putting the cup of coffee on the counter, Danielle turned to put her coat on. Still in her pajamas, robe and slippers, she slipped outside and picked up a rag out of the bucket, coughing as she inhaled the nasty scent of chemicals, cigar and cold.

"Where did you find this?" she asked Logan as she started to work. Logan had sensed her observing his work and coming outside, but was eager on being honest with her about where he was.

"The garage," Logan replied, one that made Danielle freeze, almost like the weather around them. Snow swirled around them, but she found no words to explain what else was in there.

Instead, Danielle said nothing back, laying down her consent of the actions. It was better that way, to keep up the pretense of not speaking and embracing the good coming out between the two when it arrived. Surely, Logan was picking up already on what was in there. There were things in there she had forgotten existed. Undeniably, she had forgotten that her family's things were stored in there – hers too, to be sure – and that it would be picking at Logan's interest. Danielle was not sure what Logan saw (she did not dare read him and find out), but she was certain that it was already too much.

Silence was the best route for them still, Danielle noted again. It was comfortable.

"I thought the kids wouldn't want to see this," Logan continued quietly as some time passed, as if Danielle was not ignoring him. "I didn't think you would either."

"No," Danielle conceded after some minutes passed. "No, I didn't."

The two continued to work as they did without even exchanging a glance. Then, as the minutes ticked away, Danielle picked her head up, still scrubbing the words that told her and her kind to die. She turned her head to the door, as if she was listening for something, and dropped her rag into the bucket without seeing if it landed where it was supposed to. Without speaking still, she went inside, slipping her coat off of her, neglecting it as it hit the floor, and heading upstairs.

Logan watched her, washing away the last of the obscene pictures and throwing the rag back into the bucket. As he started smoking the last of another cigar, he heard the distant whoops of the boys from the living room. He then picked up the bucket and went inside, just in time to see Michael and Riley run like blurs to the tree, exclaiming left and right about the presents under it. They chattered nonstop, oohing and ahhing over the lights, tinsel and mysterious packages. Michael even took a package and shook it, to see if he could figure out what was inside.

Behind them stood Danielle. Crossing her arms in rare delight, she smiled as the boys begged and cajoled her to have them open their presents before breakfast. When she nodded her consent after a minute of consideration, both Michael and Riley shouted with joy and tore into the boxes with delight and fun.

Logan watched this with amusement as well (ignoring the wrapping paper flying everywhere), bucket in his hands and cigar still smoldering. Danielle had not noticed the illegal object in her house just yet, but Logan was more than willing to bet that she was happier seeing her children jump and forget the harshness of the world outside than yell at him about smoking in the house. He was even happier to think that he made it a little more special for them all, scrubbing away what had been reminders of what had conspired before this extraordinary day.

As the snow fell harder, the three members of the Mitchell family thought nothing more than Christmas (except maybe Danielle). Logan, however, as he emptied the bucket in the bathtub downstairs, was thinking something more sinister. As he poured out of the water, he smelled something familiar, something that he had recalled all those years ago when he still at Xavier's and people kept flooding the mansion.

_Humans_…

Somebody was watching them. Whatever it was though, no threat seemed to be in sight, but it was still far away. However, Logan was more than willing to find out who it is…and what they're doing on this day proposed for peace and love.

~00~

Night had fallen early, but the hour was late, closer to eleven o'clock. Danielle had safely put the children to bed (the two still prattling until sleep claimed them) and was escaping Logan for the time being. Mae, Roger and Gil had gone (Gil, for once, showing himself, but easily excusing himself an hour after arrival when it all became too much to handle). Christmas was over finally. Peace, joy and love were gone and the next day would bring more of the sameness that had been happening the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.

Danielle closed the door of her bedroom behind her, leaning her back against it as she turned on the lamp on top of her nightstand. She slid down to the floor, her back still against the door, covering her eyes with the balls of her hands. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the ache in the hazel and red in them, and allowed her hands to fall to her sides. Yes, it had been painful to think that this one day would be the only that would bring some bliss. Yes, it had been awkward that Logan was like an extra wheel, observing everyone and drinking quietly in a corner as they chatted and exchanged greetings. Yes, it had been inane conversation with Roger and Mae the whole time (Gil saying few words), but it had been worth it all.

_Or, was it?_

The multi-talented mutant looked around her room with dismay. It was a mess surely, but one that could not be cleaned with a few hours to spare. When Danielle remembered the times Peter came over, she shuddered. In exchange for her and her children's safety, she's had to sacrifice everything and more in order to keep away from those awful places she's known about. There had been too many rumors for more than thirty years, but more so than ever before, since everything was running on gossip to begin with and there was no order.

Oh, Danielle had seen so much when she was married to Leon Ellis. She had kept her silence before contacting Xavier again in 2002, saying nothing against the controlling mechanisms, the cell bars and even the electric shock chairs. She continued her consent to the horror by even witnessing her own degradation, heartache and mistreatment. Between five pregnancies, two children had survived, three of them being miscarriages from the abuse. From her marriage in 1997 until her husband's assassination mere months ago, Danielle had toyed with the idea of death so many times that she believed it almost successful, more so on her wedding night. Shamefully, she even thought of it and was almost there when Logan knocked on the door not even the week before.

_Logan…what is he doing here?_

It was a question that continued to plague Danielle. People are alive and together now. Things are conspiring and it's not just Mae playing matchmaker, she knew. There was something in the way that Logan admitted things that bothered her. Being back randomly and now wasn't Logan's idea because he was not that type of person. _No_, Logan would have continued to travel the world, had he not run into the Professor and Magneto at the airport in some place some time ago. And those two together, especially on a cause, was a reason to ponder.

"There's nothing to fear but fear itself," Danielle said to herself out loud as her voice quivered, repeating one of history's most quoted speeches. "I have nothing to fear now."

The lights soon flickered next to her, a testament of the heavy snow gathering outside. Danielle turned to it and blinked with the unaccustomed glare, almost lost in her memories, but she had to stop herself again. _No_, it was not the time to regret the past again. It was time to move forward, to embrace whatever was sent to her. It was time to perhaps follow the words taught to her so many years ago, as a child of five, in order to survive the worst of this storm.

It was, with lament, that Danielle could not. For the future was always uncertain to all, but it was sure that Peter would be back to the farmhouse. And he would be calling out for more blood to spill, much more so than he ever had before. For by now, Peter Ellis was knowledgeable that Logan was with Danielle and perhaps was replacing him in bed (instead of broad), jealous man that he was. And a man who was hell-bent on a woman for some years would be a covetous and dangerous man when he sees a rival.

And a contender Logan was. It was only a matter of time before Peter sees it and acts upon it.


	16. Now Wanted

It was a late Christmas indeed, past midnight of December twenty-sixth, its official commercial end. Peter had not gotten any sleep for the past few days (and, as of yet, wasn't allowed to go home), slavishly working on his reports and hoping that the one who was higher up the chain than he would not call him up front. It was coming soon surely. Indeed, it was to his advantage that he work alone, much like his cousin did before him, but it was not always the case when reports trickled down from messengers as they always did, requesting this and that be done before leaving, an endless list that allowed no compromise.

Peter, eyes blurring and then burning from one page of a report to another, had sufficient time away from the comforts of home, he believed. It was bad enough that he spend a lonely Christmas without his favorite from the hotel (who called him a few times to ask how things were), but he also spent the day thinking of his deceased wife, Mary, who was still plaguing him from the grave it seemed. He had not thought about her much since August, but he felt some tinge of regret in his cold heart. He had loved her at some point he guessed (and all those unborn children they lost), but those days were gone long. Now, he had a new love interest and she (as well as Danielle) was conflicting with what he wanted.

Peter sat back in his chair, his pulse rapidly beating when he thought of Danielle and her love interest from long ago and perhaps now. He was starting to like this Logan character too. He poured over pages of his files from Stryker and Leon also, feeling more confused than ever before. He then recalled, through the dense fog of sleeplessness, that Logan was the same person that Stryker played with (with Stryker calling Logan the "prodigal son" to Leon), who had carefully cultivated the animal in him. As sleep finally called to claim Peter with those thoughts, he imagined Danielle in bed with the man, taking Logan in his place and enjoying the things that she could not with Peter.

Before Peter knew it, there was a knock on his door. When he woke up immediately, he turned to his clock. It was four in the morning now, a good time to appear presentable for whatever was beyond the door. Straightening out his thinning hair and smoothing down his suit, Peter called out that the person behind the door could enter.

Timidly, Dean Ferris entered. Formally one of Trask's best salesmen from what seemed like long ago, Ferris had been promoted (or demoted, if one looked at the change carefully) to the head's messenger and personal "Bitch Boy", as the jokes went around the office cooler on the floor below. Before the move, Ferris had been the best at what he did, motivating more and more to keep their keen interests in Trask and bringing in the big dollars. However, since 2006, when he moved from Sales to Office, Ferris had been unhappy and often paranoid, jumping at shadows not there and hiding under desks when loud noises were made. He was asked many questions about what he exactly did since his quirks bothered many nowadays, but he shook his head with vigor and said that personal favors and messages were the best to describe his new job.

Peter had not bothered to ask the cowardly former salesman what had made him so skittish. He only accepted that the man was doing his job and doing right by his wife of many years and their newborn daughter, Heather. However, if Peter saw one more picture of Heather or heard one more stupid story about the baby throwing up or sleeping more than two hours, he was going to strangle Ferris…and make sure that it was a comical entertainment for the rest of the office.

"He wants you," Ferris only said in a monotone, bringing in Peter's worst fears.

Peter only cleared his throat, trying to appear confident, even though he wasn't inside. "What do I own this honor to, Dean?"

Ferris shrugged his shoulders lamely, looking more tired than ever, even more so than spending a night at home. "I can't tell yet, Peter. He's just as cryptic as a Rubik's Cube."

_He_…it was a pronoun that described the man behind the main office door. _He_…whoever He was, he had a finger in every pie piece since the seventies and continued to keep all business out of the media, as well as every database with general information, like a library. _He_…He was a man that people feared, who the mighty have even bowed to. Leon and Stryker ignored him it seemed, intent on following their own leads and perhaps impressing the person who stood behind that door with their almost successful plans.

But Peter? No, he knew, he would not impress him. How Leon and Stryker managed to bypass him still continued to irritate him. For now though, Peter was terrorized by the thought that what he was doing was not good enough…that saving the things Stryker and Leon had was not suitable…but he struck down the considerations. He took a deep breath with this new confidence, facing Ferris with more bravery than he felt, and stood up, dizzy and sluggish from the lack of sleep too. His legs were unaccustomed to walking, but he was anxious to get it over with.

"Well, let's figure out this puzzle," Peter declared, motioning that Ferris show him the way. Ferris, confused that Peter would not chafe under the threat of expulsion from the head, only led the way out of the office and down a corridor and into another door that took them to the other half of the building.

Peter glanced here and there at the night team that stayed with Trask. Although the janitor was usually the only person hanging around, he saw some office workers, usually at the cooler during daylight hours, staring at him and Ferris. Peter could see their scrutiny in their eyes, sensing the reality of where he was going and why. Whispers passed him, rumors of a romance gone wrong and of possibly being pushed to fix it. Others mentioned something about being sent to the camps, away from said lover, in order to cool his head. In the meantime, they all wondered why he was being sent to the most forbidden part of Trask Industries.

When Ferris and Peter had reached the end of a hallway in the next building on the fourth floor, they turned right, down a shadowy way. While Ferris hesitated almost and wanted to search for a light switch that was not there, Peter moved forward. He imagined himself a young soldier again, wading through jungles like his cousin. He imagined that he was a hero after the war too, out to save humanity by assisting the best in eliminating the mutant pestilence. He even pictured the lady at the end who would declare him the winner and marry him, a wondrous lady who looked like Danielle, human and wholly his to control.

Before Peter knew it, he was at the end of the hallway before a lone door, his fantasies now gone. Behind him, Ferris shivered heavily, shoving himself forward so that the door could be knocked. When the dreaded noise was made on the door, a cold, mysterious voice called the two in. Ferris jiggled the doorknob, hoping to delay the meeting, but soon opened the door, shoving Peter in and leaving him in the office without entering. Peter soon heard the rushing footsteps of one running behind him.

In front of Peter was darkness though. There was little light, shining where he was standing like a spotlight, but no more. When he stared at the space where He was supposed to be, he saw nothing more than a figure in black. No features were discernible. As far as Peter can see, he was looking at nothing more than a dreamy figure of authority who would not show himself.

"What is it that you want with me, Sir?" Peter challenged, trying to sound respectable when he felt none towards this man who made him stay at all hours and gave him no breaks.

"Nothing more than a little time, Mr. Peter Ellis…nothing more than a little of your time." The voice turned slightly raspy, like the man was smoking a cigarette and had been going it nonstop for years. "I need a little information from you and off you go."

"Off…I go?" Peter questioned with barely a brave stutter, suddenly losing his nerve when chills followed down his spine.

"Yes, _yes_, Mr. Ellis…off you go to Salem Center," He said, showing a gloved hand in the light to motion that Peter would leave soon. That hand then returned to the darkness. "I would think slightly before or after New Year's Day, which would be soon. I think it would give the duo we're keeping tabs on enough time alone together. Now, you have some information about Danielle Mitchell and this other mutant she loves…James Howlett?"

"Oh, Logan," Peter replied with some visible relief in his voice. "James Howlett was born in Canada around 1832, it's been estimated, a product of an illicit affair with his mother and a groundskeeper, Thomas Logan. He killed Thomas Logan when his depicted father was shot down by said groundskeeper. He then ran off with Thomas Logan's son from a previous and dubious marriage, Victor Creed, and the two created a life together. He has been in every war since 1861 until Vietnam, year unknown. I would assume it coincided with his imprisonment with Creed and his recruitment by Stryker.

"Logan was with Stryker for some time before leaving for Canada for unknown reasons around 1975, I would think. He settled back in Canada, took up life with a semi-anonymous schoolteacher who was soon working with Stryker, and enjoyed a life until Stryker came back, using him as Weapon X. After the destruction of Three Mile Island and Stryker's trial, Logan lost his memory to adamantium bullets being shot at his head, wandering Canada and the United States as a fighter and drinker until about 2002."

"I would think you had his career with Charles Xavier," the raspy voice assumed.

"Yes, but it is sketchy, since Stryker saw little of it," Peter said, thinking quickly to cover his ass on things he did not get to yet. "I am currently researching more of it and will have more when I see a fit report."

"Good, good. Now, Danielle Mitchell?"

"Born Danielle Regina Mitchell on June 4, 1979 to Henry Jones 'Chameleon' Mitchell and Shannon 'Reaper' Adams-Mitchell and younger sister to Jayden 'Phantom' Mitchell. She was enrolled in Xavier's school in September of 1984, two years after her powers developed during an altercation with her father, who thought she was a Vietcong agent while playing with Barbie dolls. In the meantime, she took care of her mother with depression after her father left when she was three. She was also acting as an agent for Xavier and perhaps with Roger Mortimer without detection, starting when she was fifteen years old. After three years of spying on my cousin, she was accosted and forced into marriage, watching her brother be killed in her own kitchen. She was married a week after her eighteenth birthday, but was again forced to another funeral when her mother was sent into assisted living and later found dead, hanging from a light fixture from an apparent suicide."

He seemed more interested in Danielle and her family, so more than Logan (although Peter was more interested in Logan himself, to be honest), visibly twisting his fingers together in the light. "Tell me, Mr. Ellis…how does Danielle Mitchell _like_ her mutant, that Logan character?"

"I would assume the two are still in a love affair," Peter declared jealously, although he had not meant to display his feelings so close to him and was not keen on revealing information given to him by spies if he had to…even to one he feared. "They were when they met some years ago. Logan stayed at the farmhouse when Leon was with Stryker for some years and slept in her bed. He left her over two years ago and has not been seen since until he was spotted in Japan some time ago. Afterward, he was seen around the world, but not with Danielle. He just showed up on her doorstep some days ago."

"Now, I would assume the mutant to be indestructible almost," He said. "And Danielle Mitchell is infatuated with this Logan. Now, this would make into a great drama. Don't you think so, Mr. Ellis?"

"Sir?" Peter was bewildered, detecting the calculating tone in his boss' voice.

"If we put Logan up for wanted and added a bounty to his adamantium head, it would make things go more our way, don't you think?"

"I am starting to see what you mean."

"Good, Mr. Ellis, good…because I need to you put up wanted signs for this mutant. Get a picture from your files or spies, have rewards put in your good name and authorized by me and allow the camp directors' anticipation for their latest addition…if he is found alive."

Soon, Peter was finding the possibilities endless. While nothing had been said about Danielle, he could already see that anything that happened to Logan could affect Danielle. She could be _putty_ in their hands if Logan was captured and/or killed. She could be manipulated further into doing whatever Peter wanted her to go…including taking her children away and using them in a great exchange for a hefty reward from the camps. After all, they _do_ pay for mutants to be personally delivered, especially those who are most famous and notorious.

Peter could only smile, saluting as only a good, dutiful soldier would do. "It shall be done, Sir. It shall be done."

* * *

**Yeah, I know, I used "Origins" again. I had to start somewhere, but I need to figure out more of the comic book origins of Logan too. It'll be in there somewhere, I know it and am planning on it. So, hold on! :D And thank you all for reading and keeping up. I do appreciate the patience, since writing lately has been few and far between.**


	17. The Heart of Darkness

It was a cold night. Then again, since October, it _had_ been brutally cold, the days counted on tallies on the wall since that July day, when the coldest of all arrived and nothing had been the same. The winds of the Midwest picked up and raised people's hairs too without the benefit of heat worst of all, but even the blue fur of Hank McCoy was on end. Nothing could even make him feel warmth again…or even dare to hope and dream to survive freedom.

Chained with the metal that would bind him to a wall and would never allow him to use his strength and ferociousness again, Hank stared forlornly out the tiny window allowed to him, a luxury of sorts given to him and not many others who were in the camp with him. Yes, it had been five months since his incarceration here in the main camp in Kansas, the most conservative of all states and the most intolerable to mutants, but those months had left him hollow and somehow wanting more than what was given to him. He ached not only for his needs, but for those around him, jailed as he was or perhaps dead of some disease, experimentation or even worse…death, the biggest mercy of all perhaps.

On the whole, Hank could say that being at the camp was not bad at first, after they had been initially picked up at the mansion amidst that turmoil. Musing, he remembered that the children at the mansion who obeyed had been allowed some freedoms within the walls they had been brought to. They had been frightened of the dead bodies that burned their eyes as Leon Ellis and his men hurried them out of their sanctuary and into the military trucks. Like sheep, they followed and spent a hellish experience driving to Kansas in their cramped spaces, but were relieved when their arrival at the camp meant some time outside of their barracks.

It was still warm outside despite the barrenness and bitterness of the camp and its surroundings, the sunshine touching their faces with hot burns and bittersweet smiles. As Hank watched from his position near his lone cell outside, free as they were too, he saw the children make up games outside their barracks, daring each other to walk as close as they could to the tall fences or to talk to the guards. Some had shooed them away, but others had been sympathetic and gave them sweet, rare candy in addition to their two meals a day in the chow hall.

There had been little to make the mutants feel like they were in a camp or that they were forced into a secluded zone, it was that much like summer camp. Roll call was twice a day, at eight in the morning and six at night. There were no bed checks (as if it mattered to them, as nobody had anything precious and clothing was given out by order of the commander of the camp. Food was served twice a day (at ten in the morning and five in the evening before roll call) and little snacks could be found in the pockets of the camp, corners that remained deserted and were visited by the guards. Tools, playthings and hygiene objects could easily be obtained. The only thing that reminded everyone, especially the daring children, that they were in camp was the zone around the camp (the five feet around the perimeter) and the area around the commander's office, closely guarded and closed off to all complaints and suggestions.

Hank had felt responsible for the children as the oldest mutant, even with the easygoing life they had. After all, he alone had been the one sent with them to the camp. Storm and Danielle had been left behind in New York, Logan was nowhere to be found, Xavier, Scott Summers and Jean Grey were dead and Magneto and Mystique were in hiding. However, instead of feeling worried as he should about them all (especially with the glances that Ellis' men had given him on the way, murderous as they are), Hank felt liberated. He knew it to be a false sense of security, but he could not help but feel that maybe there was some hope for the children, even for a little while.

There had been other adults with Hank, but younger and less mature in the world as he was. Rogue, Bobby Drake, Kitty, Devon and even Peter (the last being with the children that July day instead of outside with them) had been separated from Hank and were on the other side of the camp, but had come searching for him, their eyes beseeching him to say something of worth, to tell them that it was all a nightmare. They too had viewed the place as something akin to hell, but had relished little of the safety net shown to them. Instead of sending them away grateful, Hank saw the foursome in corners after his vague words of wisdom barely went through their minds. They were whispering of something, but Hank could not ask them to put their confidence in him since they did not listen to him to begin with. After all, as young adults now, Hank saw them as people finding their own way, mutants that were now caught up in the political and social structure of society today.

Oh, there had been other people their age that attracted Hank's attention and perhaps the guards' too, but they were little known. Mutants named Sunspot, Blink and Warpath always made Hank wary and anxious, especially when he saw them in conspirator-like conversations with the five from Xavier's, but he could do nothing except watch them like the rest, hoping that nobody would see their hopeful grins anytime soon. He did not see any of them students from the mansion come by again either, preferring to stand by their new friends.

_Oh, hell, whatever makes them happy, right?_

Then, things started to change and quickly, Hank reflected, his blue fur shivering too. In early August, a jeep drove frantically to the gates of the camp, the driver demanding to be given entry and almost running through the gates. When the guards had conversed and allowed the man inside, Hank observed as he parked the jeep some yards away from him and ran all the way into the commander's office, located near the young adults' barracks, on the other side of the camp. While some guards allowed the lone rider into the office without hesitation, Hank could hardly see the importance of such a little man seeing the commander of the camp, especially since the man was so busy and so security minded that he needed his own camp in the camp to feel some sense of safety.

That day, as Hank saw, was the one that changed the rules again. While beforehand, all had been free to access the camp, that hot August day pushed them closer into their cells and barracks and made them sit in them for torturous sessions much longer.

Hank had little time to react after the news flew across the camp within seconds of the arrival of the mysterious man. _Leon Ellis fell to an assassin's bullet!_ People (mutants and some personnel) rejoiced in the camp, mutants mostly, dancing and singing. Hank, on the other hand, was seeing the implications roll into his mind already. He knew that Peter Ellis was an heir to the empire they now were slaves to. Danielle and her children and, rumor had it (as said from their departure and that day), Storm, were under his thumb and had no way to escape. Worst of all, Hank was hearing that there had been someone higher up than Leon Ellis and William Stryker, one that would be more than willing to strike them down one by one.

The reactions soon had to be suppressed when some more loyal guards said to scores of the prisoners that it was rude to dance on the graves of the dead. Even as the news filtered down through the ranks and the flags went to half-staff quickly, the guards by the commander's office had noticed that some mutants had escaped too. In the commotion that followed fast, Hank raced to check on the children, who had been herded back to their barracks by the time the escape news had broken out. Hank had been told to leave and go back to his cell too, but he had to talk with one of their captors, to see what had truly happened.

One had been unusually compassionate to him, a Russian-American named Yuri. While Hank knew that his wife and children remained behind in Russia and would never be able to come to America, he still could manage to get the hardened former Communist to see that brutality of many, especially children, was a crime against humanity and mutants. It was easy to get Yuri to imagine his Tatiana and seven children in a camp like this.

While Hank had been compliant with the others guards and promised to go back in his cell and showed that he was heading there, he caught up with Yuri on the way, who had been seeing what he could do about the escaped prisoners. Hank managed to grab Yuri with his large, blue hands and pull him into a corner, far from anyone's sight and hearing. Cells and barracks hid the two from prying eyes and nosy ears, but both of them were fearful of who could know this latest conspiracy.

"I don't have time, Hank," Yuri admitted without preamble, trying to get out of Hank's grip. "I have to see who escaped. Roll call will be in an hour."

"Not at six?" Hank asked, worried about the children and how it might impact them.

"No," Yuri replied, finally able to get out of the blue hands and inch his way out of the corner. "No, Hank, roll call will be in an hour. And if nobody will tell the commander where the escaped are, then blood will spill. Every third prisoner will be shot until someone spills the beans."

"What?" Hank was flabbergasted, not caring if Yuri was about to flee.

"Yes, Hank, people will be killed. So, be on your guard. Make sure your body isn't the third and protect those close. A new prisoner will be included in the batch soon."

"Who?"

"I can't say who –"

"Yuri, _who_ is coming?"

Hank could see that Yuri was hesitating and allowed him to leave to go to his duties without another question. It was someone important that coming to the camp, someone close to him perhaps. Whoever it was though, Hank was not going to get any answers anytime soon, perhaps not until rumor arrived to his ears or said prisoner was at the gates. As to who had fled the camp…well, Hank had an idea as to who split, but where they went, he could not say. He guessed it might be the desolate countryside, but it would be too easy. There had to be a plan, but what it was, nobody could say either.

It was easier to obey, to be the sheep like the children. Hank had to resign himself to the fates, just as he had before, and resign himself to the inevitable.

He was going to die in this cause. Of that, he was sure of.

As the isolation in their lodgings lasted until the predicted hour, Hank saw the horror beyond the bars of his cell before he was called out for that roll call. One by one, he saw what Yuri had told him and watched through blurry, tear-filled eyes as the youngest inmates were lined up, most of them small children. Then, the commander came out, his riding crop in his hands. Hitting his hand gently, he asked them all where the escaped had fled to. When nobody said anything, a prisoner was shot, a little girl that Hank knew as Christie. Then, when no answers were quickly forthcoming, another was shot, and another and another…

When the bodies had been accounted for and checked off as dead, the remaining children standing, horror in their innocent eyes, were forced to dig a hole where they were standing. When the commander again asked where the escapees were as they were handed shovels and told to dig, one brave soul pointed, with a shaky finger, to the barren wasteland beyond the camp, towards the east. It was a general direction, but it saved the rest of them from certain death for the moment. While Yuri and his friends continued to watch over the digging, the commander decided to lead the rest of the men and women under his command outside the fence to find the prisoners.

An hour later (much later than the roll call was said to happen), when Hank and the more elderly crowd were called out for roll call, they noticed who had escaped. Rogue, Bobby, Kitty, Warpath, Blink and Sunspot were missing, but would soon be found within hours of the guards being let loose with weapons to hold them…and all would be dragged into their barracks, confined to their cots with weapons that destroyed them keeping them in check. In the meantime, Devon had apparently been either left behind as a distraction or was supposed to be the last out, but was now confined to his own cell, chained to the walls and shocked each time he tried to use his powers. In both cases, especially in the wake of the assassination of Leon Ellis, Hank felt that security in the camp, from then on out (especially after the stunt they pulled), was to be beefed up and the mechanisms from Trask would truly be played with on the mutants to the maximum.

While Devon was being held accountable the missing persons in absentia for the time being (and was said to be put in isolation, where his earthquakes could harm none), all had been blamed out loud. Hank, in his place at the end of the line, then felt the lieutenant commander of the camp's eyes on him, the statesman of the mutants. He felt himself being created the mastermind of those youngsters that left the camp, leaving children dead and a camp full of fear. He knew himself soon to be the ultimate victim of the masquerade about to be played out, for a scapegoat needed to be played and he was the one who was perfect for it.

For Hank himself, he was blamed fully when Devon was nowhere in sight, yelled at by the brutal commander himself in front of everyone. Of course, he _had_ to be advising them, since he was the eldest and the politician that played against most of them to begin with. And because he was the adviser, he had to pay for his actions and to see what his advice was bringing.

But from now, it was a new punishment too, torture for Hank. Because of the younger adults escaping, he would be in charge of them officially, according to the cold commander of the camp…of_ all_ of the mutants. If one was to be missing again, as the six had done previously (and on a day of sorrow to the humans, no doubt about it), then he would be accountable for seeing more dead instead of him taking a whipping or a shot to the head. If someone was out of place, Hank would see them to a solitary confinement cell, with the room to neither sit, stand nor lay down. Or a million other punishments for other offenses, now he would have to watch…

In his lonely little room, Hank shook his head in shame. Four months…_four months_…and he was still here. Meals served randomly, privacy being reduced to a bucket next to him and a shot in the back every other day.

For, as everyone else knows, all mutants are supposed to be taking their shots, to cure them of their X-chromosome mutant gene. Any refusal would be result in more punishment. After all, wouldn't mutants like to be human and be freed?

_No_. It was not worth it. Hank only had to see his blue fur to appreciate that he was a mutant. Long ago, he would have taken the chance, when he was young and stupid, much like the ones who tried to escape. When he turned himself into the Beast all knew today, he had been bitter about running with abnormal feet, gawky as a scientist working for the government. Now, as years passed and he alternated between human and Beast, he embraced the inner mutant inside of himself and took the chance, deciding on remaining blue for the rest of his life…if he could only keep it, with shots ruining his chances of feeling normal.

The moon moved so that the light could illuminate Hank's face. He closed his eyes, wishing for a sleep that would never come again, and sighed, thinking it too easy. When he opened his eyes, the clouds had covered the moon, allowing its dark side to show.

Words failed Hank rarely, as he always prepared many for any situation, but this time, only a song from long ago would keep him company this night. While he remembered it playing many times with Danielle, he only could see the words dance in his mind for now.

_And if the dam breaks open many years too soon,__  
__And if there is no room upon the hill,__  
__And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too,__  
__I'll see you on the dark side of the moon._

* * *

**DUN! DUN! DUN! :D**

**The new prisoner of the camp will be revealed in a later chapter featuring said character or a mention somewhere from another Hank chapter. Action will be picking up soon, so I am sorry about all those boring "Danielle is weepy and wimpy and Logan is willing to see what's up" mood. I can't say when, but there'll be some more OC chapters too.**

**Again, I do want to thank everyone who has been reading the story quietly. I appreciate it! :)**


	18. Behind the Forbidden

It was laundry day already, and a mere two days after Christmas to boot, when cleanup really started. While Logan appreciated that Danielle was almost inane enough to put his clothes in the closet to be organized and to clean them still (much as he always liked to wear them until they were what Danielle called "holey religious relics"), he also relished that he was able to do some sleuthing too. After all, he knew what the day meant: house cleaning and Danielle preoccupied as the kids ran underfoot. While she would be yelling at Michael and Riley, Logan could be busy elsewhere and that somewhere else would be she wasn't.

The day started normally (well, as normally as it has been since Logan came back). Soon, as the kids came down for breakfast at their usual time, Logan excused himself for a shower, Danielle nodding her head in assent. His clothes now in a spare closet, he could have the ability to be upstairs, without having to shower, and give him the spare time to look around. After all, in the days beforehand, longer showers meant a routine and that took suspicion off of him.

Logan seemed new to the game of spying, even if being quiet and observant was something he always did. Sneaking around seemed to be something he was expert in (as always), but finding new information always put an undertone of irritation into his work. He had been a tool of Stryker, had been used by various governments for assignments, assassinations and soldiering. Now, he could be that person all over again…except with the person he cared about deeply. It hurt him deeply.

And Logan had to admit that he _did_ love Danielle still, even if it was to himself. His feelings for Jean blinded him in the end to the woman he truly did love, and almost at first sight too, when she was pregnant with Riley and very alone. There was always something about Danielle that attracted Logan, something underneath the running current of mischief, laughter, coldness and depression. She was almost a contradiction of each quality, good and bad, and always proved to be reliable and loyal above it all. She was a dedicated mother and would have done anything for those children, and had, including risking her life to save them. She was also an honest woman, keeping her marriage vows physically, but mentally enjoying her time with Logan and the semi-stability it brought her and the children. Even her external media image after the bomb exploded at Xavier's didn't take a tumble. Instead, sympathy poured in through letters, gifts and support when Logan was gone, especially after Riley's premature birth, handling Michael and being the victim of a crime she could not honestly report.

Now, as a declared mutant and possibly a new slave to someone else in the Ellis family (Logan guessed), Danielle could not possibly reach out for the support she used to have. In this time and age, Logan was seeing that support meant death. It was now every person for themselves, to fend and protect theirs and the family. To say that you were a friend of a mutant was a death sentence, as he had seen already. It was to risk your time…and your family and friends too.

Taking two stairs at a time as he pondered, Logan reached the top, heading for his hallway closet. Pretending to be preoccupied in picking out clean clothes (as Danielle would have wanted), he sensed Danielle walking behind him as she too came upstairs. With a quick glance, he saw that she was unlocking the bedroom that was always locked with a hidden key from around her neck. She went in briefly, coming out with a load of laundry in a basket, obviously something that had been sitting there, waiting for her to pick up. While Danielle did not lock or close the door behind her, she did pass Logan with a smile.

"Anything else you need washed?" Danielle asked Logan quietly, sweetly even. She had changed from her quick bitchy mood from some time ago and was almost intent on making Logan feel more welcome than she allowed herself to show.

Logan mumbled something akin to leaving him and his things alone, but Danielle always took that in stride. She shrugged her shoulders, not embarrassed about asking the question like she used to be, and walked away, taking that basket downstairs with her.

"Well, you know that if you need anything, give a yell," Danielle offered gently, disappearing around the corner and going into the kitchen.

Logan made sure that Danielle was out of sight and preoccupied. Checking a short vent that led straight to the downstairs bathroom, where the washer and drier were, he saw Danielle hopping around Michael and Riley with the dirty clothes and trying not to trip over a pile of more dirty clothes. She was already sharply telling them to get out of the way, but she too was sensing her surroundings around the bouncy kids, the energy from her was that tangible to Logan. Hell, Logan had to chuckle to himself throughout the situation, tiptoeing back to his closet. When he grabbed what he needed for the shower and put it on the bathroom sink, he quietly slid to the bedroom that he was never allowed into.

Danielle had always made it clear that Logan stay from this bedroom (and the other next to it) after he started living with her after coming back from Alkali Lake the first time. When he asked her why, she explained that it was a room full of memories that continued to bother her and preferred that it remained closed to everyone and not have questions asked when she wasn't ready to answer them. Logan never thought of it since, but now that Danielle had left it open for him almost conveniently, he was curious. He felt it another clue in the mystery and a step closer to perhaps what Xavier and Magneto had been searching for, a step in getting the X-Men back together.

Gingerly, Logan entered, almost disappointed that it was an ordinary, bare bedroom. It was cold, almost like military barracks in basic training, but sparse in furnishing. A green cot with one hard pillow and folded green blanket was on the right-hand corner of the bedroom, a dusty nightstand displaying various knives and a handgun with ammo that Logan was sure was now illegal in the United States. There were no posters on the walls, but the walls smelled like the last time they were painted in that awful shade of camo green was about ten years ago. On the floor next to the cot was an ashtray, filled with no butts, but residue from cigarettes smoked ages ago.

The closet showed nothing much either. When Logan stuck his head inside, he only saw some civilian clothes, but mostly there was military grade clothing, mostly dress clothes and shoes, boots, camo uniforms for desert and jungle and some wife beaters and belts. Socks were rolled up in a corner on the floor, but Logan called it questionable to even try and see if there was something inside of them, since the noxious fumes from them were old sweat. It was doubtful anything was in there, but he remembered that some guys hid their valuables in their socks when not wearing them, especially when he was in Vietnam.

Logan was about to back out of the closet, not happy with his finds exactly, when a floorboard creaked loudly under his foot. He backed up, toeing the board with his feet until it moved in an upward motion. When it popped open, he noticed a large and equally dusty stash of weapons and ammo underneath him, stretching some feet in both directions. Logan could not tell what they were, but he was certain that they were kept there for a reason and that it could very well have been Leon Ellis.

Some noise downstairs perked Logan's ears, sounding like Danielle readying herself to come back to the bedroom. He was running late on the shower already and might be drawing some suspicion from her.

Making sure that everything was back to its original place (especially that floorboard), Logan made his way to the upstairs bathroom quickly, shutting the door behind him. As he did, starting up the water and finally allowed it to flow through the showerhead, he heard Danielle go back to that bedroom. She put something heavy down and returned to the hallway, locking the door behind her. She then went back downstairs, yelling at the boys to start cleaning the living room before lunch.

Logan breathed a sigh of relief. Surely, Danielle would figure out that he was in there, but that did not matter. Now, some answers had been revealed to him, but still more questions beckoned his mind. While the person who was in that bedroom was obviously military or was discharged soon afterward, Logan was sure that whoever it was (as well as Danielle) was storing illegal weapons for usage. Again, for what it was for was unclear. However, with Leon Ellis a threat until recently, it was not hard to imagine what they could be used for.

As Logan stripped off his clothes and went into the tub, he closed the curtain behind him and thought again. Who else could be in this house, living with Danielle, before she was married? It did not seem like her parents' bedroom, which he guessed was the other locked bedroom. It also did not seem like her to share the house with another person, especially one who was extremely questionable in their sanity and clearly paranoid about an invasion of forces.

Water rolled down Logan's back as he tipped his body forward. As the warmth enveloped him and his healing tolerated the overly hot temperatures, he found his answer.

Jayden Mitchell, Danielle's brother. _He_ had to have been in there.

~00~

All was quiet later that night. Danielle and the boys were in bed and maybe sleeping, but Logan was not in the cold of the evening. Outside and smoking his usual cigar, he relaxed, but only for a moment. Still intent on finding that human that was spying on them a couple of days before, he did not anticipate a shadowy figure sliding on the porch and coming out of nowhere. Logan immediately dropped his cigar and drew his claws out, but luckily made out Roger Mortimer in the dim light before he attacked instinctively. Relaxing little still, Logan kept his claws out, but managed to retrieve his cigar, putting it in his mouth.

Roger Mortimer held a file in his hands, but did not want to reveal its contents yet. Instead, he looked at Logan's defensive stance and laughed.

"You think you can fool the master assassin and spy?" he asked Logan, turning his laugher into light chuckling when Logan shot him a menacing glare.

"You think you can get past me?" Logan asked in return, not willing to let down his guard. "What are you doing here, bub?"

"Information, of course," Roger answered honestly and easily…too much so for Logan. "Have anything to share yet? You know there was nothing we could do on Christmas, but surely Danielle let herself slip for a moment in the days afterward."

Logan said nothing.

"I know you've been up to something, Logan," Roger warned in a vicious tone, but he sounded honest. "The Professor asked that we work together. Come on. You can trust me as far as you can throw a politician."

Again, Logan said nothing. The find earlier in the day he preferred to keep secret, but with Roger Mortimer nagging the way he was, he might have to punch him in the face and answer questions later.

"Fine then." Roger sighed, pulling out his folder and opening it for Logan, keeping its contents for his eyes only. "I'll start. Here, this is a file I found recently. It was picked up at the mansion when those stupid Trask employees were not looking."

Logan took the folder with claws still out, flipping through it carefully without slicing it. Inside, he found pictures, drawings and some pages about certain mutants. Uninterested, he passed through them, but stopped when something caught his attention. It was a rather stark drawing, something familiar, and he knew that he saw it before. Long ago, when he met Danielle and was accompanying her to Tarrytown, he remembered them going through files and finding this, only to see Xavier cringe upon seeing it.

It was a robot of some sort. While obviously meant for capture and incarceration, this robot had the ability to fly and shoot down enemies. It was meant to track down something too, but what it was, Logan did not know.

"Sentinels," Roger confirmed, seeing Logan's eyes glance at that one picture. He used his hand to light a flame without burning himself in order to get more illumination, amazing Logan that he even had a mutant ability. "They were created by Trask in the early seventies. They were meant to eliminate mutants. We're thinking that they're now being used for more than getting us jailed. We think they're turning against their human controllers too."

"What do you mean?" Logan looked up from the file.

"I'm saying, man, that the Sentinels are being used as weapons to kill us…_all_ of us."

Logan has to snicker, taking the cigar out of his mouth to conserve it from a fate that involved it going out on the floor.

"There might be ways to kill you too," Roger added hastily. "You're not totally indescribable, much as you like to think. I mean, what would happen if someone cut off your head?"

Logan did not even think of that possibility, seeing as how his adamantium-laced body was almost impossible to cut apart.

"In addition," Roger continued, "there could be ways to kill Danielle too. Or did you figure out that she could kill herself at will?"

Logan looked at Roger like he was kidding, repeating the words to make them real. "Kill_ herself_ at will?"

"Yes, Logan. Danielle can kill herself at will. She can choose whether or not she can live or die. How do you think she's survived that shooting? Alcatraz? The million little things you'd thought would have killed her? Do you think that you're the only one who could heal and live forever?"

"She can't live forever."

"My wife isn't going to be telling you anything, but I will, and I will tell you the truth, much as you deny it, Logan. Danielle can live forever if she wanted to, but she's not going to admit anything about it or do it. While her mutation allows her to age, she can reverse the process by choosing to keep at her age for any amount of time. She can actually _look_ like the age she's supposed to be and not someone older."

"So, that's the big secret?"

"Not much of one, is it, Logan?" Roger shrugged his shoulders, unable to see how appreciative Logan was about the information and seeing how much he understood her better, little as it was. "I don't comprehend why people like to keep Danielle so mysterious, but I can see why she likes her privacy. I mean, being a senator's wife and a mutant makes some interesting tabloid, don't you think?"

Logan had to concede, but did not want to admit it.

"Now," Roger said, taking the file away gently, "you have anything for me?"

"Arsenal and other weapons in a locked bedroom, looking illegal," Logan replied automatically, feeling a little trust go between him and Roger, enough that he could say something. "I believe it is Jayden Mitchell's bedroom."

Roger nodded, concealing all emotion and responses…for the time being. Without another word to Logan, he left, jumping the porch railing the same way he came in. Logan watched him leave and then disappear without a trace, unable to believe that a simple exchange of information was all that was needed to get rid of the creep. He had to admit that Roger _was_ a little sneaky, but he could get used to that. And the information exchange, especially with someone who previously annoyed him (albeit a nameless one back then surely), wasn't so hard after all.

Logan allowed his claws to retract safely. Smoking the last of his cigar and putting it out against the porch floor, he felt almost undisturbed. He almost even felt safe, knowing that there was someone else out there, watching out for the same things he was. However, something bothered Logan, another question that ran through his mind even as Roger was explaining about the Sentinels.

What had made Xavier so scared of the robots? What had he seen all those years ago, when the anti-mutant waves had begun?

* * *

**HOW could I forget to source the lyrics from the previous chapter? -_- The song from the previous chapter with Hank comes from Pink Floyd's song, "Brain Damage" from the 1973 album, _Dark Side of the Moon_. You know, the t-shirt Quicksilver wears in the last movie. ;)  
**


	19. Surrounded

It had been a normal morning for Mae…for the post holiday season, that is. Fighting the crowds through the after Christmas sales (and it being three days after the fact), she shopped for some food for the household, not knowing when she'll be able to see food anymore, and started her way back to the car, her cart full of groceries. Luckily, she was able to snag a young associate to help her with the bags and get them into the car. The pimply human teenager gladly accepted the offer and was even blushing through the bumpy skin awkwardly when Mae exclaimed how strong he was and how weak she was becoming in her old age. She even teased the teenager further, stating that he must be a joy to have for his parents too.

_Men…they're still saps with their ego. Always will be._

Mae smiled to herself as the food was piled into the trunk of her car. After saying goodbye to her helper and perhaps new friend (she, unlike Roger, was not picky with people who had random tidbits of information if needed), she went into the car and started it up. She was about to put the car into drive when she felt a gun barrel on the side of her head.

_Dammit, I knew I should have checked the car!_

"Drive if you value your life, whore," the voice said, slowly hiding himself behind her to avoid detection from the others outside, but keeping the gun close to her head. "I'll give the directions. You just listen."

Mae nodded, unwilling to rebel this time. Trembling, she put her foot on the gas and listened to the whispers from the man, acting as normal as possible to save her life and others'. After taking a left out of the grocery store, she was instructed to take the right-handed turn to the main road out of town and into the forests that lined Salem Center's borders. While Mae was nervous, she accepted that she might be able to live after obeying.

When the man finally asked her to turn into the state park just outside of town, Mae almost balked, but stopped herself quickly. She did as she was told still, parking the car in a deserted part of the woods under some trees. After cursing that the perishable food might not be usable after this trip (and knowing that Roger would be annoyed), she stopped the car, raising her hands in an easy defeat as the man with the gun continue to keep her life on a thread. Again following his instructions, Mae got out of the car, keys in her pockets, and walked several yards into the woods, into a clearing, and stopped when silently ordered to. The gun barrel still stuck to her head, she waited along with her captor for something to happen.

A few, long minutes passed. Mae was soon getting bored with the charade, about to ask silly questions and see why she was of interest to someone. Just as she was though, a rustle in the bushes caught her attention. When her cousin, Peter Ellis, entered with a gun of his own, she had to groan, willing herself not to say a smartass comment, like she did to Leon, her brother. Tired of being held against her will first by her brother and now cousin in this struggle, Mae could easily see a way out, especially with someone as cowardly and stupid as Peter. However, she had yet to figure out if there were more men than Peter and the one behind her and where they were, if any.

"We need to stop meeting like this," Mae said sarcastically to Peter through clenched teeth. "What do you want, Peter?"

Peter laughed, motioning his man to stop threatening Mae with his gun. As the gun barrel was lowered, Peter replied, "Nothing more than your time, my lovely cousin. Say, do I see some grey in that little head of yours?"

"What the hell do you care?" Mae spat out, trying to make out how many figures were now in the woods. There seemed to be more than was suggested, but she could not tell with the shadows they made around her.

_Dammit, I'm surrounded! Peter thought this one out…or did he?_

"Well, I _care_ for many reasons," Peter started to explain, motioning that all of his men in the woods – shadows included – leave the premises and to leave him alone. As soon as it seemed that the coast was clear (Mae knew better), Peter continued. "First, you seem to have Danielle's ear these days."

"What is it to you?" Mae tried playing a game, being compliant and pretending that whatever Peter was saying was the truth, in which case it mostly wasn't.

"Well, you see, I am…what's the word…_tired_…of my men seeing things in, but always getting turned off by that Logan character who's now living there."

"What's it to you, Peter? What's this Logan person have to do with anything?"

"Well, my lovely cousin, there are many things wrong. First, I don't know if you are _aware_, but Logan is a pretty dangerous mutant…just like you."

Within second, Peter was in front of Mae, ripping the back of her shirt. Instantly, her transparent, multi-colored wings, fairy-like and still as youthful as the day they sprouted out, popped out. Mae pulled what remained of her shirt to the front, but she could not help but feel humiliated, being so exposed to the elements. She forced herself to kneel, like Peter was more superior than she was, and began to feel the burn in her body, of rejection and hate, the same she always felt as a child, adult and now, as an older woman. And all towards the man who was also family, but of the same breed as her brother, Leon.

"Is this what you do with Danielle?" Mae asked him viciously. "Corner her, make her feel like an animal with your serum, and rape her?"

Like Leon many years before, Peter slapped Mae in the face. While it was never as hard as her brother's, Mae still felt the sting harshly.

"What happens between me and Danielle is none of your concern," Peter retorted. "What _is_ your concern though is your son, Gil."

"You leave him out of this!" Mae yelled, feeling useless in protecting her son, who was the same age as Danielle.

"How can I?" Peter tormented, sounding like he was in the middle of a pity party. "Poor, poor _defenseless_ Gil Mortimer, considered a bastard and his own mother not knowing who his father is. Too bad he has the weirdest mutation in the family."

Mae froze. She had never told anyone that Gil was a mutant, born the way he is now. And who could have blamed her? Sending him to a public school was a mistake, which was why she stayed home and schooled him, just as she did for herself. Anyone who could have seen Gil up close knew that he was a mutant. The gills on his neck, almost like a fish's, bulged out visibly, and were used in the same manner. After the taunting he received the first and only week he was in a public school after the other students saw the mutation, Gil began withdrawal, unwilling to deal with the world around him. Pitying him, Mae left him alone as collars covered his mutation and his face became paler with the isolation. Mae almost wished sometimes that he would face the music, but she could not make him do anything, as he kept to his room and tinkled with computers all day, the most he'll ever socialize. His chronic shyness destroyed whatever trust he had in anyone, save for his mother and Roger.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mae said, knowing where her answer would leave Gil.

"Oh, but I think you _do_, Mae," Peter replied. "I think you do. Because if _anyone_ knew that poor Gil had gills, why, he could be sent away…just like you and Roger Mortimer. The camps would pay a _million_ to see someone like Gil and try to cure him too. You and Roger? Well, he can be useful in making fire of his own, but you aren't too useful, with your wings and memories hops, I'd say. There's isn't much profit with you, no gifts or anything to keep you safe."

"What do you want from me?" Mae asked, almost moaning with the detectable tones of motherly mercy. "What do you want from me this time, Peter?"

"Your time and patience, my cousin. As I was saying…you cooperate and get some information for me about Danielle and Logan while I'm away, I'd appreciate it."

"I'm not spying for you!"

"This said from the wife of the master spy and assassin himself! Now, Mae, do as I say. It means you and your family can be spared."

"You made the same deal with Danielle. Why should I trust you? You're making a hell for her and her children by the torture you give."

"I said, it was none of your business, bitch!" Peter slapped Mae again, harder this time, drawing some blood from her lips and nose. "The terms are as follows. You watch Danielle and Logan and report to me nightly through regular channels that watch you daily anyway. There is no telling on me to Roger because I will know about it. He can't _touch_ me. There's no saying anything to Danielle or Logan because there will be more dire consequences for both of them and the children.

"Then, I would need you, my darling Mae, to lure Logan to me. There is an anti-mutant rally tomorrow. If you get Logan and maybe Roger there as, oh, maybe a bonus, I would consider the fate of your family…but only you and Gil. I can't make any promises for Roger, Logan or even Danielle and her children. Their fates are up in the air at this point."

"And if I refuse?" Mae asked bravely, knowing the answer in her heart, but trying to work out a solution for herself and her family.

"I think you can use your imagination and figure that out."

The meeting was over before Mae could give an answer of refusal once more. Peter tossed Mae another shirt, presumably to use because the other was ripped, and walked away, leaving without a goodbye. Mae considered herself lucky to be alive, but not for long. She was now stuck in the middle between her precious and only son and to the family she had grown to love. She had to make a choice though, a choice that would ruin either side. She did not want to hurt Danielle, Logan and/or the children, but she had to choose them or the son and husband she treasured above all.

Mae took the destroyed shirt and tossed it to one side without thinking of where it landed (for all she cared, it could be burned), tucking her wings on top of her bra. She then pulled the new shirt over her head. Putting herself to a sitting position afterward, she rocked back and forth, unwilling to cave into Peter's demands. The shadows still danced around her, still waiting for her decision before leaving with Peter, but they too would have to wait until later tonight. A spy in the master spy's home would have to do for now with the answer, which would probably when she was able to talk with Roger in his study.

In the meantime, Mae was already seeing loopholes in Peter's plan. As she thought the great ultimatum through carefully, she surprised herself by coming up with schemes to get past telling anyone. She was watched all the time, but it did not mean that that wouldn't be a form of communication she had with Roger. Code, in many forms, developed between the two in the years together and it would be too easy to pass anything along without a motion of a hand, a note written like a love letter or even an action that required careful attention to see its meaning. She even knew that she was safe talking in Roger's office, all sound and blocked out from all sides and with no cameras or microphones.

It _was_ too easy, like giving candy to a compliant child. Mae got up from her seated position and walked carefully back to the car, aware that she was still being observed. She had to be extremely cautious surely, but it was to be a patient step. She had schemes running through her mind, ways for Roger to find out what Peter was now up to and to get to the bottom of the barrel. She had to act quickly for she knew that time was of the essence. Roger and Logan had to be at the rally tomorrow, to show that Mae was acting in good faith, and to be in the trap. However, with the right planning, _nobody_ was going to be left behind.

Mae got into the car, intent on checking the groceries later, when she got home and coaxed Gil out to unload the car. She was already running late, noticeable by the messages on her cell phone that she picked up from the car cup holder, which was currently out of tower range, but receiving messages from before the confrontation. She put the phone down, sighing as she wiped the blood from her face with her hand. Roger was going to see it all (he was good to pick up on things like that), but the explanation will come in time, when there could be a coded message or a trip to the study. All Mae had to do was play a double game.

That, in and of itself, was dangerous enough. However, Mae was not willing to give up on any part of her family, adapted or not, and could easily volunteer to take anyone's place on the truck to a camp if she had to. She could be spared. However, if she played it right, everyone will survive for a little while longer.

Seeing her older eyes reflect back at her, Mae sighed again, knowing all too well that she would soon find herself in the same position as Danielle. However, she had different choices than a married Ellis wife would have and a lot more independence and less leverage as well.

_Hang in there, Danielle. We're coming to get you out of there._


	20. Hard Choices

It had been too easy to persuade Roger to go to the rally the next day. He was interested in going anyway before the request, since his men were surveying the people around Salem Center and trying to get their opinions anyway, checking the waters on where mutants stood, even when it was mostly negative. The worst part for Mae though was lying about where she was and what had happened (Mae figured that Roger knew where she was and was keeping quiet about it). Now, Mae was facing the ultimate challenge: to get Logan to go as well.

It was ten in the evening. Gil was still awake, but working for a client before sending a computer back via mail, so he was not interested in the secret doings of his parents. Mae and Roger stood in the hallway before their bedroom as Gil worked away, each trying to survey the other after a day of saying nothing to the other. Since Mae had returned home, Roger had been secretive (as had she, she had to admit). He said nothing about her being missing, but hearing Gil work by himself made him proud almost, like his adapted son was stepping into the right direction.

Roger pointed in the direction of their bedroom as they both shuffled their feet. "Coming to bed?"

Mae was shy, skipping the subject. "Can't we go in your study for a bit?"

In an extremely rare moment of playfulness, Roger had to laugh. "I didn't know you want to go at it on top of the desk. I accept that challenge. Let's go."

Mae had to smile too, but the reply from Roger was for all the wrong reasons. She knew that his study was the only place they could talk in private, even if there was a spy waiting for her answer outside. She had yet to give Peter a reply to his rude inquiries, but in the room with all the ways to block out eavesdroppers, Mae would feel safe to indulge Roger with the visit she had after grocery shopping.

Besides, it would be entertaining to Mae, to say the least, to see Logan and Roger interact again once the intent was revealed. It was pure magic just to watch the two just _growl_ at each other.

The two went inside the study. Mae shut the door behind her, looking at each window and fastening the window latches too. In turn, it locked the spy outside in the cold.

Roger watched Mae with interest, the playful light now out of his eyes. "What are you doing, Mae?"

When everything had been closed securely, Mae turned to Roger, the latter now leaning against the front of the desk. "I had to, Roger. There's a man out there, waiting for me."

"What for?" The high alarm is Roger's voice was evident.

"Peter caught up with me," Mae explained, motioning to the cuts to her face. "He gave me a choice to spy on everyone, but it would mean the end of us or Danielle and the children. _He's_ waiting for a reply outside."

"I knew it!" Roger smashed his large fist in his other hand, the smacking noise echoing around the room. "I knew that bastard was up to something! What it is, I don't know, but this might be the first steps for him. He must have had some help."

"Do you know who's in charge yet?" Mae asked, watching as Roger started to pace his office.

"No, but I feel like I'm getting closer." Roger stopped pacing for a moment to face his wife, hands behind his back. "One of my men found out that the man in charge is at Trask, but has been renting the office spaces of Bolivar since the time he was assassinated by Mystique. He just seemed to walk on into the office, no questions asked and all credentials accepted. No clear-cut pictures, nothing that can identify him. His face, hands, body features, _everything_, is covered by clothing and shoes. According to reports, he's been in hiding and has come out rarely, if he has been seen."

A shiver went up Mae's spine.

"What do you think?" Roger asked her, seeing her dismay.

"Do you think it's a mutant…fighting against mutants?" Mae asked Roger, thinking of the one name she was not allowed to speak in the house.

"_No_!" Roger yelled. "_No_, not him. Besides, why would a mutant want to turn a human's head against a mutant?"

"Gain perhaps," Mae replied. "Or even war, pestilence, death and famine. You know them very well, Roger. We've met them before."

Roger waved his hand. "Pure imagination. Now, what do you need me to do? Make you appear to be sincere to Peter?"

"I guess two can play that game." Mae grinned like she was in a façade, banishing images of the mutant she could not overlook, but never forgetting the game she was playing.

"Well, go out there and accept the offer, whoever is there. I'll be out at the rally tomorrow, but I won't bother giving you details."

"I need you to get Logan out there too, Roger."

The request was simple. Roger stared at Mae startled at his reply, but he soon recovered himself. He asked himself why Logan needed to go with him (as far as he could see, Logan would be in the way and would be needed more at the farmhouse), but there had to have been a reason for Mae to ask for something so irritating. Logan was bothering Roger a bit more than he let on (even after Xavier letting Roger in on the secret of how he still lived, the aftermath of knowing he was dead and seeing Logan in the middle of the plans), but the show had to go on somehow. Logan was a key too, the one that would bring the X-Men back together.

_Or, would be? _Roger had some faith, but it dimmed mostly. However, if the Professor had some hope that Logan would do something, Roger supposed that he had to feel the same too. If Xavier had sent someone out on a mission, then said person was perfect for that job.

"I don't think I can pry his hands off of Danielle if I tried," Roger said distantly, knowing that Logan could only truly leave if he let go of the situation. "I think he's comfortable where he is."

"A deal is a deal, Roger," Mae protested. "I _need _Logan there. I don't think we'll get too far if he isn't there."

Roger glared at her in a menacing manner. He was not used to being told what to do, seeing as how he had been in charge of the X-Men's spying and assassin ring for so long. He was used to bossing Mae around, getting to see things _his_ way, especially when she was drinking and bar hopping. He understood that she could make decisions, but the spying ring was _his_ alone to make, Peter Ellis be damned. He was Xavier's militant partner, the silent one that did the dirty work when Hank McCoy or even Magneto did not want to. He had men to command, money from his family that ensured that he kept them satisfied, and abilities that would frighten even the largest of men.

Roger called the shots. _He_ alone would make sure that none would be killed, but the game his wife was now playing was getting too hot. She did not need to stick her neck out either.

However, Mae was stubborn and she saw that her husband was the same. "Roger, Logan goes or we die."

"I can find hiding places for us all," Roger protested immediately.

"But for how long?" Mae retorted. "Is it fair to the children that they bounce to a different place every time somebody came by? Is it fair to them that their childhoods had been taken away already?"

Roger had to admit that Mae was right, even if he could counter that life wasn't about innocence, no matter the age. He growled, unwilling to bend, but folding his arms across his chest in his own stubborn stance.

"I get Logan to leave with me and I'll have someone watch Danielle," Roger compromised. "If there's a sign of trouble, we go with everyone. Deal?"

Mae said nothing, but smiled. She won. In response, kissed Roger deeply on the lips and left his office, putting a coat on. Roger listened for her, hearing her footsteps cross the hallway and those that headed for the door. She left the house a few moments later, stomping in the snow in the deep backyard, crunching her way through. Roger estimated a long conversation already.

Sighing, the master assassin and spy sat in his desk chair to rest. Pulling a drawer out, he yanked out a thin board, revealing a secret stash of Jack Daniels and a shot glass. Taking both bottle and glass out, he closed the drawer up carefully and poured himself a glass, downing it quickly to feel the effects drown out his problems. He repeated the process a few times before he felt a buzz in his head.

"Damn women," he only said, taking another shot. "They're making me too soft again."

~00~

Although Logan had not been expecting company that night, he smelled Roger coming by the porch again. In the pale moonlight that shone over that side of the porch, Logan saw that Roger was dressed as if for camouflage (black outfit and face paint), but he recognized that sneaky shape instantly. Smoking his cigar in the cold, he only raised his right hand, allowing a single middle claw to extend out.

"I feel the love too," Roger only said as he appeared, seeing Logan in the best of moods. "Look, I don't have much time to stay and chat, but I have a request."

Logan popped the claw back in. He wasn't too interested, but listened anyway as he smoked.

"There's a rally tomorrow," Roger explained quickly, speaking as if someone was around to hear what he said. "I need you to come along. It starts the green and it goes into town, not much of a hike if I park somewhere nearby. I can pick you up either way, park somewhere and we can settle down."

Logan had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he did not know what it was about. Rallies in town weren't friendly to mutants as far as he knew (and as far as he'd seen in his journey into town anyway). They were crowded places where anything could happen and it was usually bad. He wasn't too familiar with the locals (except maybe for the guys at the gas station near the mansion who probably had disappeared), but he might stand out and draw attention.

"Maybe next time," Logan replied, unwilling to let himself to expose himself or say anymore.

Roger stared at Logan for a moment. Understanding lined the older eyes for a moment, but Logan could not see why. Possibly, the man was becoming more pliable in his old age, but Logan waved that away. Roger Mortimer was a militant, bossy man who did not like people contradicting him or going against his rules. Logan remembered him to be pushy, vindictive and without remorse. He had no mercy for anyone.

Now, he was asking Logan to go into town? Was Roger thinking things through carefully or was there something more to this inquiry?

_What was wrong with him?_

"I think you should consider it," Roger only said, pressing a piece of paper in Logan's hand. Before Logan could blink an eye, Roger was gone.

Logan did not have time for games…or notes, for that matter. Finishing his cigar in a huff, he unfolded the paper. While he smelled an extra human around the house that obviously pushed Roger away, he was not worried about being watched by the unknown. He was more worried about what was going on in Roger's head and why he would ask him something as stupid as leaving Danielle and the children alone and heading into an easy fight.

The words literally danced as the heat of Logan's hands touched it. Slowly, as blank ink became sentences, he waited patiently until the whole note was revealed. The cold wind whipped the end from his hands, but he kept the danger close to his heart now that he understood.

_Come to the rally tomorrow or there will be consequences for both my family and yours. I'll have a man watch Danielle and the boys. I promise to keep them safe, but I can make no promises to their protection if anyone follows us back here. It's guaranteed if you come and come alone…for the moment at least._


	21. A Mutant of Both Sides

Logan felt he had no choice but to leave for town in the morning, feeling the note burn inside of him before ridding himself of the words in a fire. He slept little that night (the note safely burned in the wood stove in the basement), but had gotten up early to explain to Danielle where he was going for the day. No use in leaving and giving her a reason to get upset again, he figured with a shrug and a shudder. If he was going to be more open with her, he might as well say something about disappearing for a while and coming back for dinner, at the latest.

Danielle was finishing up the laundry in the downstairs bathroom while the kids were doing some schooling upstairs (since Danielle had seemed want to keep them away from any public school and had given them too much time off, Logan had heard). When Logan approached her, she looked up smiling at him (perhaps in a happier mood), but frowned immediately when Logan said that he needed to leave for the day and was going to meet up with Roger.

"What for?" Danielle asked in a concerned fashion, folding a towel and putting it on the pile in a basket before taking another and repeating the action. "Roger's going into town for that rally today, but he usually has somewhat rational reasons why, like asking others what's going on. He can blend into and is known. But personally, if you weren't as familiar a figure in town like him, I wouldn't want to be there if I were you."

"Getting out of the house, I guess," Logan replied nonchalantly, trying to gauge Danielle's suspicions and how she figured out what Roger (possibly) could be doing.

But it was too late for Logan. Danielle had been onto what Logan was doing of some time now, but was saying nothing to his silent or subtle inquiries since the near break-in into her room the day after his arrival. She asked him not to speak and he listened in his own way. She did not want him knowing what had been happening and preferred to stick on her own, trying to figure out what exactly the Professor and Magneto wanted with everyone together again without being as obvious. It was nearly impossible to see, but Logan was like an open book sometimes with his thoughts…and one that left clues as to where he was. Danielle said nothing to him going into Jay's room (she noticed the dust kick-up where the closet was and the loose floorboard), but left him to think that she was in ignorance.

Indeed, it was much easier to leave Logan in his own unawareness. Danielle found it less painful for him that way, to spare him whatever emotional scars that were there for them both. She was already seeing what it had cost him to kill Jean and how he decided to come back within the space of some years. It would break his heart to know what happened to her, she was sure, and he would go out of his way to get Peter.

And, most certainly, Danielle did not want Logan tangling with Peter Ellis at this time.

"I don't control where you go or what you do," Danielle said evenly, trying to keep the highly concerned bitterness out of her voice as she continued to fold clothes and towels. "If you want to go to town, go. I'm not stopping you."

"See you later then." Logan's voice was even too, like he was trying to avoid a fight that was surely coming. He detected a tone of wistfulness from Danielle, but he ignored it, heeding Roger's words about letting her go. She was going to be taken care of as best as possible and will be safe and was sure that Roger's promises meant something.

That was all Logan needed to reassure himself of. He picked up his leather jacket and headed out the door as he put it on, walking up the road without much detection as he slid down towards the ditches by the farms alongside the road. He had noticed in the time he was living with Danielle (before and after his tenure) that the neighbors were not very nosy and did not bother Danielle for more than a cup of sugar…_once_. They had not said a word to anyone about his arrival either (considering the great encouragement for reporting and picking up mutants), which made Logan think that they were silently sympathetic in their way, but it might not be long before they said something.

And Logan didn't want to be around when that happened. He did not want Danielle and the kids there either.

Ears perked as the miles were behind him, Logan heard and felt the whirl of wind from vehicles passing him as he walked up and down the hills. About five miles from the farmhouse (and with no incidents), with little distance before he hit the main road, he heard a car stop nearby and a door slam shut. Logan quickly stopped, crouching down in the ditch, claws out and ready for an attack. He perched a position near some dead grass, waiting who would be picking him up. He had been certain that someone was ready to stick him in the slammer, like the rest of the mutants…

"Dammit, man, I thought you'd be here!"

It was only Roger Mortimer.

"Danielle said you went ahead," Roger continued, seeing the claws out, but also noting that Logan was still in a defensive position. "I figured you needed a lift. I didn't want you walking."

Logan put his claws back in, standing up to reveal himself fully. He said nothing, but obeyed Roger's motions to get in the passenger side of his pick-up truck before someone saw them. When Roger joined him inside and started driving again, the atmosphere felt awkward again. Roger turned down the heat in the truck because it was unbearable to him, next edging his fingers to shift the truck into the next gear. When he was in a place where he did not need to keep shifting, he stole a quick glance at Logan before returning his eyes to the road.

"It's gonna be bad out there," he began, not sure what they'd find once he and Logan were at the rally. "Be on the lookout. Keep yourself scarce."

Logan grumbled something akin to knowing what he was doing, but Roger stopped him.

"This isn't the mansion playground anymore, Logan," he warned, trying to avoid some kids who were pulling stupid stunts on the road. "You can't just run off into the woods and hide and growl when you want to be left alone. This is open town life. People have known the other since birth and beyond, known cousins, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters. You can't just stroll in there and expect not to be noticed. You may have been the oddity in town some five or so years ago, but people will remember that you were with Danielle, the senator's recently widowed wife, or with Xavier, the man who tried bringing humans and mutants together."

"People's memories are too short," Logan replied, staring in front of him. "Nothing in human or mutant history has changed that."

Roger only nodded, stopping to take a right into town when he saw no traffic to the left. "And since Trask has taken over the mansion, people are jumpy about the mutants and are security minded. I don't know what you're needed for, but whatever it is, we can't afford to cause a scene. Stick by me or make yourself invisible. Watch the rally and cheer for all I care, but be careful."

Logan noticed, since receiving the note the night before, that there had to have been reasons for him to come to the cocktail party. When he started going through the reasons and connections in his mind, from the time he came to the mansion and then met Danielle and then onward, it all started to click, one person being the middle person perhaps. The words Xavier had told him, the storyline that had played out, the characters of the little charade they were falling into…

It all led to one person: Danielle. And from her, it would ultimately go to Logan himself, falling into the trap.

_It makes sense!_

"So, tell me," Logan began as Roger started slowing down in town and a traffic light turned red, "where did you get the file from?"

"It was hidden where the Professor's office used to be," Roger answered honestly, seeing bits of the parade on the sidewalk as the light turned green and he moved forward. "My men knew where to look. I had been searching for that file for years now."

"Where had it come from?"

"I would assume it was given to the Professor," Roger offered. "I don't know where exactly it came from, but it was rumored and hinted by the Professor that invisible hands gave it to Jean Grey and Danielle on a trip just after Riley was born. They handed the file to him, where it was put into a safe only few could locate."

"Chameleon," Logan only stated.

Roger suddenly stopped the truck, almost stalling it without stepping on the clutch pedal. When he heard horns behind him protest that he was holding them up, he put the truck back into gear and drove. When he found a place near a business that he could safely park and talk to Logan, he moved quickly. When the keys were in his pocket as he stopped the engine, he glanced around. When he saw that nobody was in sight, he stared at Logan with eyes that asked him where his assumptions were formed and why.

"What about Chameleon?" Roger asked in a menacing fashion.

"Well, he seems to have popped in and out of people's lives for some years now," Logan mentioned, recalling his introduction to the mutant from Xavier when this whole thing started some five years ago. "Who is he? What exactly does he do, if he's on both their side and ours?"

"Because Chameleon is twisted soul who cannot bear to see harm done, but would do the world some justice by perhaps dying himself," Roger replied harshly, seeing the full circle Logan beckoned to at last. "Chameleon is very complicated, a character that would maybe be better off staying where he was and not bothering to come home to torture and complicate his home life."

"What is his real name?" Logan asked, seeing the memory in his mind at the mansion, of a time long ago, when he and Danielle were finally falling into place…

"_Let me go…"_

"Henry Jones Mitchell," Roger admitted, waiting to see a reaction out of Logan, but there was none. "Danielle and Jayden's father."

When Logan continued to sit in silence, Roger continued. "Listen, Logan, it's a long and difficult subject for anyone to acknowledge, but I'll say something. Part of the reason why many had considered Danielle and Jayden to be traitors was because of their father. Another reason is because it would come back to haunt them, hence the secrecy most of the time. Chameleon had many soft spots, most of them being saving everyone. He was a decorated war hero, a savior or demon to many in his unit perhaps, but he was also traumatized by what he saw and did in Vietnam. While he left behind his wife Shannon and Jayden when he was in the jungles, he still could not find the footing he once had beforehand when he came home. He hung out at bars, tangled with Leon Ellis to make some ends meet and even bounced for Phineas Teller at that damned bar. Nobody really wanted to hire him and he couldn't make a living except by walking into conspiracies.

"This alone picked at his PTSD and paranoia. While he was delighted when Danielle was born years after Jayden was, he had failed to see that his wife had turned into a depressed maniac and his son had taken over the farmhouse and was head of it. In the ten years since he had left Vietnam, he was blind to the faults he had and to the despicable deeds he forced himself into, including his dealings with Leon Ellis. To keep his family afloat, he had to destroy the same people he had grown with and was willing to fight with against discrimination and death.

"When Danielle was three, Chameleon just snapped. Shannon had enough and told him to leave. She didn't want a divorce, but she was tired of the fear she and the children lived in. Because of his job, those three could have been picked up for anything. They were nothing but leverage to Chameleon and he had to go in order to save them. However, whatever else prompted his leaving is a mystery and very few people know what happened, the Professor included in the circle of those in the know. Me? Don't ask. Mae won't tell me and I have a feeling she knows."

Logan sat in fascination. _This_ hadn't been told to him.

"In the years since, I've been following Chameleon," Roger admitted with an indifferent shrug. "Mercenary for hire, almost like that other project of Stryker's that I can't remember the name for, but Chameleon's conscience has some morals somewhere. He was often seen by his red eyes by the time of assassinations, suspected in over three dozen murders in New York State alone. Everywhere else, I can't say, but the marks are like Chameleon. People say that red eyes pop out of nowhere before a shot from afar gets the victim. Now, I don't know what else he did, but I'm pretty certain that he's been in too deep with Leon without anyone knowing, but I'm also sure that my brother-in-law was using Chameleon to keep Danielle and the children alive for as long as they had been."

"You think he'd be the one to shot Senator Ellis?" Logan asked, his mind working into what Danielle had mentioned the first night.

"It wouldn't surprise me actually," Roger replied, seeing a group outside observe him and Logan seriously. "Chameleon's had some beef with Leon for years, probably because they both used each other. I personally think that the two were friends sort of, but had a falling out before Leon got the upper hand and used Chameleon for something…or vice versa. I haven't got anything else yet, but then again…when has Chameleon ever admitted anything?"

Logan dimly recalled the night when he caught Chameleon in Danielle's room. There was some coldness in those red and golden brown eyes, a life that had seen so much in so little time. There had also been some familial tenderness for Danielle, something she had thrown away just as easily. Logan considered a history between the two, but it now made sense. They were cut from the same clothe, two of the same who fought for what was right, but had to pay a high price for the cost of others' freedoms and safety. But there had also been the bad, when either one had burnt the other and would have reached or pushed away.

"Come on, Logan," Roger motioned as he got out of the truck, trying to cut down on the extremely suspicious townsfolk by giving out instructions as Logan was getting out too. "You stay within the alleyway down the street there, a block away. I'll be nearby. Just watch your step and be careful, like I said."

Before Logan could reply in a curt manner, Roger was gone. Logan lamely sagged his shoulders in relative defeat, locking the truck before moving. Easily slipping in with the crowds, he pulled the leather jacket's collar up a little to hide himself before easing into his position. When the alleyway came to him and he took his place, he perched himself near a dumpster, ready to run in case something was happening.

Already, the tension around him was enough to cut through with a knife and he needed an easier escape route. Logan turned left and right before finally settling against the corner of a building, away from the smell of the dumpster and freer to run. Smiling to himself, he could only think that another piece had been practically given to him, something he hadn't even much thought of until then. And it fit right into what he had been searching for this entire time.

_Chameleon had been around all these years. Why then and now? And what had happened between him, Danielle and the rest of the Mitchell family?_

Drum rolls started from down the street. A parade was about to begin. Cheers filled the air. A shadow behind Logan made itself known.

Logan turned around and saw nothing, listening to people yell in the cold air. Resisting the urge to allow his claws out, he only growled as a warning, turning around with caution in his body. He again leaned against the building, watching the line from afar come closer to him. And what he saw, he could easily ignore. After all, he mused to himself, ignorance may be bliss, but it could be more to people's lack of knowledge than sheer following.

_Your country needs you._

Stryker's words brought back pain that Logan had yet to deal with. He shrugged that away too, watching as a slow procession starting walking past his unseeing eyes.


	22. Welcome to the New Age

Roger too had been watching the parade with little interest in it but the people. Disappearing into another set of crowds before saying goodbye to Logan, he met with several of his men in another alleyway, giving out assignments and ways to report back to him later. While more than half of his teams had been mostly mutants, Roger had been appreciative of the humans that were brave enough over the years work with him and Xavier as well. He, as well as Xavier, thought that each brought unique gifts and could work together…but even then, as well as now, Xavier did not want to know about the illegal and violent dealings they were working with and never did want to.

Sighing, Roger went to search for Logan, but it did not take long to find the silent mutant who sulked in a corner. Just where he directed Logan some yards away, he saw him with the dark customary leather jacket held to protect his face, but in the shadows near a dumpster. One of Roger's men stood nearby behind Logan, but almost betrayed Logan in public by revealing himself from his hiding position and then Logan's claws. When Roger saw the relaxed, albeit guarded, look about Logan's face, he felt relief, but it was momentary.

People were milling about Logan in large circles, curiosity lining each person as their backwards faces appeared so innocent. While most were interested in the parade coming up and were stopping to take pictures in the cold, crisp air, they still gave the mutant glances that showed that they did not know who Logan was and were intent on finding out, familiar person that he was. This, however, was something that Roger feared the most.

One man reported back to Roger within seconds as the high schoolers with their band playing gave way to their classmates acting out the humans defeating the mutants in a mock battle. The floats, costumes and plots seemed too amateur to Roger, but the intent seemed the same as their adult figures, who constantly egged them on with their cheers of delight. However much their mission seemed to be frightening their super-powered counterparts, Roger was more interested in the man with some news.

"Sir, some people are a little more than suspicious these days," the man reported through the unusual external screaming from across the street, Roger taking notes in code on a notepad hastily taken out as the man handed him a flier recently given out. "Peter Ellis has gotten them all a little scared of their own shadow when it comes to the mutant threat. Anybody not part of Salem Center is suspect and can be lynched."

Roger immediately put his notepad away in his pocket, seeing who was on the flier and now understanding why there had been some shouting nearby. "Call the men," he ordered sharply (much more so than usual, he noticed), suddenly not seeing Logan at his spot anymore. "Tell them to split up and get what they can. Meet me back at my home later tonight, but not with the whole company. Word can be passed on."

The man left without a word, disappearing as fast as Roger would in the circumstances. When Roger gained some sudden momentum after the realization and sprung from his shadowy corner, he ran to where Logan was previously standing. While others continued to walk around the spot where the mutant had been watching the rally and students sang out their rallying calls, Roger found it now connected to the people's new founding.

_I'm waking up to ash and dust,  
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust.  
I'm breathing in the chemicals._

_I'm breaking in, shaping up,  
Then checking out on the prison bus.  
This is it, the apocalypse._

_I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones.  
Enough to make my systems blow,  
Welcome to the new age, to the new age…_

As the last of the students passed behind him and a newer, more mature float came by with the leading politicians of the present day Salem Center (minus Peter Ellis, for some reason), Roger felt a chill run down his spine. It was the first of its kind since the coming of Apocalypse, the mutant with his four horsemen, so many years before. Then, just as he felt the cold, three things quickly went through Roger's mind, all of them not good.

One: They knew that Logan was fairly new to town.

Two: They also knew that Logan was seen at Xavier's some time ago.

Three: Worst of all, Logan was known to be a powerful mutant.

~00~

For Logan though, the rally had been somewhat akin to what he and Danielle had participated in when the kids were younger, even if it was…_different_. He recalled warm summer days when Danielle would drag him with Michael and Riley to some community event or another to have what was classified as "fun". When Riley was still young (about three months old and crabby as hell) and strapped to Danielle, Michael would drag Logan from one stall to another on the main street, blocked off from traffic. He was always begging Logan to play with him too, trying to tempt the mutant into something as trivial as family life.

Except this was a bit more unusual than usual. Logan had not expected this event to be in the cold weather, but recent days had been strange to begin with. Ever since he stepped back into the United States, customs and ordinary things he took for granted had vanished. After that meeting at the airport with the Professor and Magneto, he noticed that his skills at being invisible had to be used to the maximum. Every eye in that airport knew that he was a mutant, from his lack of luggage (almost everything given to him had been left with Mariko in Japan for safekeeping) to his lack of reason for a pack down.

And that conviction alone followed Logan. When he looked around at the country he fought for and had settled in sometimes, he saw that all Americanized customs from post World War II onward were gone, replaced by pathetic shows of supremacy. At his position near the dumpster, leaning in just so to hide from view, Logan listened to the most wretched power hungry songs, high schoolers beating their instruments in joyous precision, and to shows full of little mercy. While there had been demonstrations of ascendancy as politicians waved on (reminding everyone of their previous votes the month before), with human over mutant, Logan noticed something else as well. After the float with the fat men in suits, he caught one show floating by that he could do nothing but stare at.

It was obviously a mutant, that much was certain. Chained at the neck, wrists and legs, the mutant jerked occasionally (and most painfully) when looking for sympathy, but soon was choosing instead of stare at his feet. While this one had been practically naked except for some clothe around the waist, he was easily covered in rotten vegetables and eggs, each freezing on his body in a drip that barely made it to the floor of the float. His captors, shouting that they had received monetary reward for capturing such a great fiend and would send him to a camp, accepted the applause given to them.

Logan would never give them the satisfaction. Without thinking, as the mutant passed him by, he angrily popped his claws out, ready to strike. They stood out blatantly, like a red flag, but it gave enough people cause to stare at Logan even more so than ever.

Within seconds, the claws were retracted when no threat was immediate. But that had been enough for people to gather around Logan quickly to become one, just as that other mutant smiled to see another like him. He could not escape even if he wanted to, but soon was pushing his way out, asking for some space that would never come.

"Isn't that the one from Xavier's –?" one asked.

"It's a mutant!" a woman screeched.

"Call the warden! He's wanted by Peter Ellis!"

"Kill him! _Kill him!_"

"Mine!"

When Logan heard the last word, he had to bail. He could hardly care less that he was wanted by Peter Ellis. Hell, he could care less that people knew him to be a mutant and one that had been spotted by the Professor's mansion, when it had been his in the past. However, his cover now had been blown. He was now being seen as one that could be used for gain, and for money at that. Within seconds of the realization, he had pushed his way out of the crowds and ran to a nearby business, passing through a thick row of people that had speedily tried to stop him from leaving.

Logan did not think to look for Roger, who might have been nearby. Without a plan in mind, he shoved one person after another away from him as he tried o reach some cover, each trying to restrain him, and urged his legs to work when they started feeling like they were wading through syrup. When he suddenly was unable to move and was stationary, he heard a buzzing noise rip through his ears. Screaming as it went through his head and left his body feeling like it was going to explode, Logan sunk to his knees, his hands to his temples. He then felt someone hitting him in the head with something hard, but his healing ability did not cover it up as quickly as it should have. He felt a gun at his back, but he did nothing to avert it.

When Logan tried using his claws again, to slash his way out of the danger, he felt that the adamantium – metal that had been painfully pulled back out by Magneto – was useless. He was going to die.

The sidewalk was cold as Logan laid his head down, admitting defeat as one silent scream was mouthed from his lips. As one beating after another threw his body into a spasm of human pain, he closed his eyes, waiting for a death that would now come. This, he figured, was not just a white flag sort of surrender. It was death that was perhaps coming to him at long last. It was a struggle that he had longed for still, _wished_ that could happen. Even after that bitch of a scientist that Yashida had made him mortal, he thought that living for eternity had nothing for him anymore, _nothing_ to live for and nothing to gain.

But now, there had been something to live for. Logan had thought of so many people as he laid there in agony, people who depended on him living. Maybe they had taken advantage of his mutation (a gift, Kayla had said it was) for too long. Maybe they had given him too much faith, to expect him to achieve something that was so obviously out of his reach. Maybe too they had thought him so capable of handling a world issue that he used to scorn and walk away from. Logan used to not care about the world, just as long as he was left alone.

A lone voice in the distance stopped the pain. Words were exchanged then and afterward, when those beatings stopped, but Logan could not discern what they were. He just knew that he was with someone who cared and that he was saved. But it was then that images pooled into his mind as his eyes tried to see who it was, enemies from long ago now. He could not fight them. His claws slashed at every picture he saw again, but they kept coming back at him. There was no escape now, even if a gentler force pushed him back into a cloud of peacefulness.

When the ringing stopped in Logan's ears, he opened his eyes, almost seeing nothing but an infinite darkness. His blurry vision then adjusted to a lighter world, but he was incapable of seeing who his savior was. He was sure he smelled the person, but it was difficult to tell when his senses were not available. He could not use his powers of observation, but depended on the hands that gently yanked him to his feet, dragging him with an arm under his shoulders and urged him to keep walking.

He only wished it was too easy though, to walk away and never return. Danger was still simply within reach, he knew. He just could not just stride away this time.

* * *

**Above lyrics are from the Imagine Dragons' song "Radioactive". If you listen to the beat of the song, you can almost picture the chapter in your mind...well, to me anyway. :)**


	23. You Love Him Still

From that moment when Logan said that he was going into town and had left, Danielle felt a bad feeling about the situation, knowing that something was going to happen and that she needed to stop it. Granted, she figured (and long knew) that Roger was going for different reasons with his men, that he was feeling the waters before making a decision on something, but it wasn't him that she was worried about. What it was, Danielle did not know exactly, but she was sure that it also had something to do with Logan, whatever it was.

After seeing Logan disappear over the hill without a thought of picking a ride from someone (and seeing Roger off after he stopped by briefly), Danielle stopped folding the clean laundry and left it to sit on top of her dryer. Listening to Riley and Michael recite their lessons to each other like religious catechism, she reached for her home phone. Dialing Mae's home number, she waited patiently as seven rings buzzed in her ears. When nobody had answered and Roger's low menacing voice dared her to leave a message, Danielle sighed, braving herself for the inevitable. She did not know if someone was home or not, but she was determined to get some information of her own.

"Mae, Gil, Roger, _someone_, this is your in-law here," Danielle began in an annoyed voice as the message finished and the beep told her to record. "I need you to call me back immediately. This is important."

Just when Danielle was about to say something more and threat mutiny of the highest accord (something akin to getting their attentions though other malicious means), the phone was picked up and the answering machine was turned off. It was Gil.

"Danielle, nobody's home," Gil said in a hurry, eager to get off the phone and go back to his room. "Roger is in town and my mother is in the back property looking something over. Call again later."

"Gil, _no_, don't hang up on me," Danielle begged. When no dial tone was heard, she continued, hoping that he would do her a favor. "_Please_ come over. Something is wrong. I can feel it. _Please_ watch the kids for me. I need to go to town and I don't need them to see it."

"I don't have a ride. Roger took the truck."

"I don't _care_. I'll drop the kids off and skip their lessons for the day. _Please_, Gil, I know something is wrong. Indulge me in this one thing."

There was silence. While Danielle waited for her answer, she fretted. She knew that she was pushing a situation to its limits. Gil was not the best person in the world to be watching her kids. He was a recluse, choosing to keep away from a hostile world that would ridicule his mutation. He ran his own business in his room, shipping computers in and out to grateful humans who did not see who he was, but just understood that he was an efficient technician, self-educated and reliable, to boot. Human interaction had not been one of Gil's strong points anyway and one that Mae did not encourage either.

Finally, Danielle heard a sigh from Gil. "Bring them over. I'm sure my mother will be back soon anyway, probably by the time you get here."

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Danielle felt relief immediately, hanging up with Gil without a goodbye and calling Michael and Riley downstairs, readying them for the trip.

The trip there was no problem. The boys were ecstatic that they were free from their lessons and had the opportunity to get away with everything but murder for a few hours. As soon as Danielle released the child locks on the CRV, they were both out of the car without looking back, banging on the door as Mae came up out of the property woods. As Danielle sat in her car, she watched Mae let the boys in, calling out that they could have the TV for now. She then turned and walked to Danielle, knocking on the glass window. When Danielle rolled it down, she saw that Mae was frowning.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded of Danielle. "You know Roger will be home soon and he can't tolerate the boys around."

"I don't have a choice," Danielle replied, putting the CRV from park into reverse and keeping her foot on the brake. "Something is going on out there, Mae. I need to go to town."

"To the rally? Are you _crazy_? They'll kill you before you step foot in there!"

"Then, let them kill me. I'd like to see them try."

Mae saw the determination in Danielle's hazel eyes, which turned red and back to hazel again in an instant. "It's Logan," she stated quietly, seeing the love in Danielle's eyes for the first time in years, a yearning that quickly vanished when it was mentioned to the younger woman. "You love him still and can feel that something happened to him. You can't stay away."

"Watch the children please," Danielle only said without a flicker of emotion more, finally letting go of the brake and reversing the car. She rolled her window up, pushing the CVR over the speed limit as she drove down the road into Salem Center.

When the sad, slushy side roads turned into the cleared main drag full of salt and dirt, Danielle slowed down. Traffic was congested. People milled around her car as it rolled five miles an hour, urging Danielle to push it further and faster. With her foot back on the brake, Danielle searched high and low for a space to park, finding nothing until she circled the blocked area for the parade. There, a ways out, she found a space near a baker's and hurried to get the CRV secured. When she was parked and the car was locked, Danielle scanned the crowds, trying to locate where Logan was. She as rusty with her powers (that much she was certain of) and the voices in her head swirled with too much hatred and gossip, but she pushed past it, feeling for anything that resembled Logan.

Danielle frantically pushed through crowds, trying to find Logan. When people gave her hard stares, she ignored them. Words of rumor and sexual innuendo pulsed through them anyway, whispers of her relationship with Peter Ellis being on multiple tongues in town. That, however, did not matter to Danielle at the moment. Up ahead was her interest, a circle of people who stared and screamed about a mutant. An animalistic yell sounded above the rest though, pointing to Danielle where Logan truly was.

_There! If I could only reach him…_

Danielle reached out with her mind, trying to get to Logan and to comfort him, more so than he would with her. But before she could say a word and run to the source, a buzzing sounded in her ears, bringing her to her knees. Consumed by the pain of using her powers in so open a place, Danielle screamed. She stuck her fingers deeply in ears, trying to block out the pain, but there was no use. It drilled deep in her skull and down into her body, making her incapable of moving, like an electric shock had made her stationary.

It was soon too that Danielle had her own crowds. While some broke away from Logan, they saw Danielle, the deputy warden of Salem Center especially. As the warden controlled Logan, the deputy had Danielle, but he was not keen on leaving her incapacitated for long when he realized who she was. He released her, leaving her to fend for herself and not even giving a hand. As soon as she was released though, Danielle stood up, her body (as well as her temper) rigid and frosty. Her eyes almost glared their angry red, but Danielle knew better than to start a riot.

"Mrs. Ellis," the deputy, Sam Waterston, began, "what are you doing here?"

"I would have asked the same of you, but I know better to the question a man of the jails and courts," Danielle replied smoothly, looking at Logan. "Release him. Logan is a visiting friend from Canada and hasn't done anything wrong."

"You know we can't, Mrs. Ellis," Waterston responded, signaling the warden – James Burns – to hold Logan a little longer. When Danielle shot a look of wrath that would even melt the strongest man, Burns released Logan from his agony, but Waterston gave in to little of Danielle's demands when he handed over Peter Ellis' wanted poster to her.

"Ellis' orders," Burns added, kicking Logan for good measure.

Coldly, Danielle took the poster and read through it, trying her hardest not to use her powers to extract her revenge too, especially with a crowd holding their breath and looking for a good reason to lynch her and Logan both. While the picture was an old one, from when Logan first arrived at the mansion (surely a leftover from Stryker's files), it also named him as a Canadian named James Howlett, a name Logan had not used since he was a child. Underneath it, there was monetary compensation for the capture of the "dangerous mutant" and that incarceration or death would be the key in keeping the mutant away from a civilized society. It was signed by Peter Ellis, but the last lines of "in place of Trask" worried Danielle.

Danielle handed it back to Waterston, feeling a headache coming on. "The facial features appear similar to the mutant you have there," she conceded, figuring her way out of the hole dug for them. "However, I'd have to say that Logan isn't this James Howlett you're searching for."

"Oh, Jesus, not this again," Burns moaned as he pocketed the device he used on Logan. "Listen, Mrs. Ellis –"

Danielle rounded on Burns, throwing the poster back at him, crumbled into a wrinkled ball by her cold hands. "_No_, you listen to me, Warden Burns. Logan has caused no harm to anyone. He's been living in my home since before Christmas, here on special permission from Canada, who knows that he's a undisruptive mutant. He came out with me to the mall, stirred up no trouble and was not arrested then. There was no public disturbance. He did not use his powers, even when he wanted to. He was a law-abiding person who came into this country legally."

"The law states –" Waterston tried.

"The _law_ has not moved totally against mutants yet, even in Canada," Danielle countered hotly, knowing that she would be lost if the people were against her and Logan. "Last I heard, unless you were served papers or a law enforcement agency had a warrant for your removal, there is no problem. And since you have neither, and are relying on the time-old method from the nineteenth century to control and conquer, I would suggest removing yourself from that man and letting him come home with me."

"You'll go to a camp for this," someone muttered as a threat from the sea of people, stunning Danielle into frozen submission. While nobody else undoubtedly echoed the sentiment (out loud anyway), it was also clear that she too had enemies and there had been many there that day who would love to have seen her fall.

"There may be camps in this country," Danielle continued carefully, "but there is still freedom for everyone here, not just humans. The law still protects people like me and Logan."

"Not unless you're a danger to society," Burns pointed out, slowly backing away from Logan as his claws drifted in and out of his knuckles, just as his consciousness did.

"And we aren't," Danielle reassured him in an almost begging manner, aware that her welcome was slowly waning. "Let me take Logan home. He isn't who you're looking for."

"And why should a mutant challenge us?" Burns asked her. "_No_. Mr. Ellis is interested in this mutant, I'm sure of it, and so are these good people who've captured him. He's the one that's been wanted."

"And for what crime?" Danielle then inquired, using her last card that she knew. "There has been none posted. It is therefore illegal to detain and arrest one, even a mutant, for nothing. And If _Mr._ Ellis wanted us so badly, he can serve us his own paperwork or you can come by my home and serve us your warrant of arrest. Now, if you would excuse me…"

Almost like they did not want to catch the disease they thought Danielle had been born with, the sea of people that had gathered around her and Logan parted, leaving her a path to him. While Logan was still fighting an imaginary enemy now, Danielle easily sedated him mentally, leaving her to safely pick him up without being sliced again. The claws went back in as the people gawked for a better glance at the monster and he stopped fighting.

Proudly, Danielle walked the pathway given to her. Although Waterston and Burns did not bar her movement, they still glared at her, like they still had a thing or two or say about her untimely disturbance, but kept their mouths shut. She had her way easily (and she was sure that the tale bearers would be running to Peter Ellis, their liege lord in all things), but it was harsh to feel the stare of a million staying for a parade that oozed music that denounced every being that was different from them. Even seeing Logan was a disaster in and of itself.

_All systems go…  
The sun hasn't died.__  
__Deep in my bones,  
Straight from inside._

Danielle felt a lump in her throat. Even though she had shown that she cared deeply for Logan in the most obvious manner, she still had to put on a show. It was the first thing her mother had taught her before she died, after she married Leon Ellis. Danielle's terrified stance in dealing with the media backlash had been, at the very least, one that made her mysterious. Some had been sympathetic at first because she was a mutant, knowing full well that her brother had died (possibly in the hands of Leon Ellis, some conspiracy theorists said correctly), but soon all that had changed in a blink of an eye. Sometime after Riley had been born and Logan had settled with them in a domestic atmosphere, her husband started painting a horrid picture of mutants, her included, and her media image had been sliced into pieces.

Now, all eyes were on her and her next move. Like long ago, when she was introduced by her husband when first married and was only eighteen years old, Danielle held her head high and stared ahead at her target. She inched to Logan gently, putting a protective arm around his shoulders, allowing her hands the luxury of touch and her nose some smell. While her neck and back ached with the weight of the heavy adamantium, she still managed to get Logan to his feet. He half-walked with her as she dragged him through the way still there for them and to the car nearby. Easily, Danielle unlocked the car with one hand and heaved Logan with the other. He cooperated, opening his eyes to see Danielle as his body healed away from the torture. She said nothing to him, but she saw that his eyes betrayed emotions that he never normally showed, mostly surprise.

Danielle quickly maneuvered into the driver's side and turned the car on. As she started backing out, honking her horn to get people out of the way (annoyed that they all still stared), she noticed that both Waterston and Burns were conspiring at the same corner they were left in. While their co-workers pushed the crowds out of the way and the parade and shows proceed as normal, the two pointed at the CVR and mouthed a word that Danielle expected: Trask.

_It should be coming soon._

There was no doubt that Peter would be hearing about her show today, most likely in minutes after she left the scene. While Danielle anticipated him coming by to the farmhouse, she did not relish the feeling of helplessness she would have when he showed up with his paperwork to have them all deported. It was something that had been coming with her own cooperation (even Peter had told her that it won't be long either), but that had been stretching things too. Danielle risked everything, most especially wrath, by allowing Logan back into her life and heart. There would be no mercy from Peter Ellis now.

Logan, sensing Danielle's thoughts almost, braved a hand to hers as it hung limply to one side. Danielle had been driving one-handed, reaching for something between the two seats that had never been there. Reminding Logan of her convertible in the garage, he reached over to rub her tense fingers, his thanks of a sort that perhaps would have been appreciated by her. While the recoil had been there, Logan continued to keep a firm hold on Danielle's hand. After a few minutes, when Salem Center was finally behind them and the Mae's home a few minutes away, she stopped struggling and gripped back guardedly.

With the same powers that had allowed Logan to sleep so peacefully in the past, Danielle allowed her energy to flow, calming Logan while her nerves shook with the touch, but she never revealed them. When she let go, the feeling visibly left Logan's body in a state of relaxation. It was brief, but it wasn't too long before Danielle connected to Logan's mind to say few words of comfort.

_You'll never be left behind again._

* * *

**Again the song lyrics above come from the Imagine Dragons' song, "Radioactive".**


	24. Prism Reflections

It had been an exhausting day. After receiving hourly reports from Mae via his spy from their home (an entertaining and equally exhausting motion personally), Peter Ellis had been able to relax. His motel room empty except for the body he craved the most for at the moment, Peter finally felt the warmth of his last (and newest) mistress next to him. It was four days after Christmas already and he was able to go home in harmony…for the most part. While his cell phone was on full volume in case he slept and was needed at work, he did not expect any visitors anytime soon.

Besides, it had been a quiet few hours away from the office. Peter had been able to get some sleep (even if it was roughly less than four hours), play with the woman he adored and bark some orders at someone through the phone for a change. Hell, he even was receiving some disturbing text messages every ten minutes about Logan, tips that flew across Salem Center, but the most alarming had yet to come. While the warden and his deputy had frantically called and left voice messages that stated that Logan had slipped through his fingers, Peter was not worried until he heard Danielle was involved. Logan was easy to track and easy to obtain if the right tools were in place, but being betrayed was a slap in the face.

And that plan had yet to formulate. While Peter was slavishly checking in with Trask about the special chair he had for Logan today (since he had not thought of it until recent hours), he still had to make his own plans too. While he saw how very effortless it was for Danielle to be coaxed out of hiding, he had no qualms about ordering that Logan be left to his devices…under house arrest of course. Peter had yet to get the proper paperwork to make it happen, but he was sure that, by morning, a judge will be able to give him what he wanted. By then, Peter would be able to move again, this time to take the most precious things next to Danielle's heart, more so than Logan ever will be.

Just as Peter was getting warm in his bed (and having two more hours to go before going back to the office for Him), blankets curled around him and his sleeping mistress, his phone rang. While it was normal to hear it go off, he could not but help seeing the caller ID from his position on the bed. It was the main desk number for Trask. It was odd, since secretaries were not available there at the time until later in the morning, but it piqued Peter's interest nonetheless. He picked up the phone, just accepting the call before it went to voicemail.

"Hello, Peter?"

It was Dean Ferris. Peter slacked his forehead for answering the phone to the pathetic messenger, finding the man more useless than ever before (more so than Leon, he should think). He inwardly sighed, replying that it was him and whatever business it was, it had better be important.

"I should think so, Peter. The item you wanted today is ready for pick up. When and where do you want it delivered?"

Peter thought for a minute. It was possible to get the item he desired sent to the location he needed to, but it might take longer to get the paperwork he wanted. However, _He_ might have different plans. While Peter was given a hint that maybe Logan was the key to a certain mutant someone's heart and to get things their way, there was no word about what else he _can_ do, other than a bounty on the adamantium head that Stryker had made. However, to get things their way, perhaps there was more that Peter can do. He calculated some money in his head before going on answering Dean Ferris.

"You know what, Dean?" Peter said, smiling for the first time in days. "Put it on a truck or something, I don't care which company vehicle. I don't want it driven anywhere unless I get some paperwork."

"Umm…what kind are we talking about?" Ferris' nervous tones asked cautiously, unaware that Peter now had the perfect plan.

"The kind where we take children to the camps," Peter replied callously as he picked at his thumb's cuticle, estimating five thousand each for Danielle's children. "How long do you think it'll take?"

"If they're going to the same place, I can maybe get them no later than two days. Why do you ask?"

"Because _I_ think we should play a little game." Peter stopped toying with his thumb enough to get even Dean Ferris some adequate attention. "It's a game I've loved to play since I was a little kid. Sudden departure…and death."

~00~

It had been a cold enough evening. While Hank had slept through most of the day when not outside (indeed, those had been his days as of late save for a few precious ones outdoors), he woke up to moonlight in his face. It was a comfort to him to see it, since little had been slipping through his window, but it also told him something more as the guards passed in shadows and more often. While he had been following the routine of the camp more often, he saw that there was little to no chance of escape…_ever_.

It was more evident when that new prisoner arrived. Hank did not see this prisoner for months afterward, rumor surrounding who the identity of said mutant was, but his mind swirled with the possibilities. He did not truly know who it was until earlier today, when his time alone outdoors was monitored by guards and guns were pointed around him in an area fenced in the center of the camp. One wrong move and he could have been killed in this circle of freedom, but that did not matter to Hank anymore. What was more surprising than the work out time was seeing Orono Munroe in the same exercising area as he was, guarded more closely and chained by her captors.

"Storm?!" Hank yelled, astonished to find the former schoolmistress captured.

"Hank," Ororo greeted with a weak smile as her chains rattled. While her female attendants (most of them unhappy to be babysitting a mutant, by the looks of it) pulled at her to stay away, she motioned to Hank, as if to say she could do nothing about the situation.

Hank searched for words to say, but was stuck. He only could spit out neutrally, "How are you? How are you doing?"

"Fine," Ororo replied automatically, not willing to mention her conditions. While Hank noticed bruising and some discoloration on her face and arms, her spirit remained the same: determined and like a rock.

"Are they treating you well?" Hank then asked, almost smacking himself for asking such a stupid question in a place like this.

"As well as can be, Hank. Everything and everyone will be ok."

It was then that the unexpected meeting was over. Seeing that the two were too chummy, Ororo's guards yanked her away, unwilling to allow her more time outside. As she was led away though, she lent Hank a little smile, revealing more than her words and appearance will ever tell. As Hank pondered them, he too grinned. She was holding up as best as she could, she knew that most of the mutants were safe and there was hope.

That had been something that Xavier had taught them all so many years ago. There was _always_ hope.

When Hank's set of guards urged him out and ushered in another mutant (a young child really), he saw something on the ground. When he picked it up, he saw that it was a piece of glass, shaped by the sands to smooth out the edges and make it almost like a prism. When the weak winter sun hit it, rainbows appeared in Hank's hands.

It was beautiful, the most wondrous thing Hank had seen in years. But it was soon taken away from him within seconds.

"What is that?" a guard asked him, snagging away the glass piece. When Hank started to protest, another pushed him away from the arena gate, dragging him back to his cold room.

"A simple piece of nature," Hank managed to respond as the guards dragged him away. He tried to mutter words of objection, but not daring to at the moment when he saw the faces. The guards were too busy turning the piece over in their hands, muttering about personal belongings and what the commander said about them.

After some consulting as they walked Hank back to his cell, the leader handed the glass back to Hank. It was a kind, quiet gesture, Hank felt, but it was one that nonetheless made it all the more nasty. When the item was dropped in Hank's hands, all without touching him, the leader evilly grinned, laughter tickling the corners of his mouth. Just as they pushed Hank back into his stone cell and wrapped the chains back on him, they all started to laugh deeply, one that was not only condescending, but also mocking as well.

"Kill yourself with it, for all we care," the leader said, locking the door behind him as he finished and his cohorts had escaped too. "It'll save us the trouble in the future, old mutant."

While Hank was not disturbed by the words, he was still fascinated with the glass. Reaching as far as he could, he placed it at the edge of the small window still allowed to him, watching it as the sun dripped down into the sky. As night fell, he had lulled himself to sleep with the soothing touch of the multicolored façade. And at sunup, it began again, but this time, coming up as the sun did, slowly dipping its colors up and over the wall, creating new pictures with each new angle of light.

It was interesting to see it shine, Hank admitted to himself that night, but more so that he found it after seeing Storm. It had given him the strength to go on, giving more faith that perhaps all will be well and they will escape. After all, one attempt had been made. Another could too, when the chance had come up and when things were on their side, an advantage that might take some time and patience.

For, Hank said to himself as the night moved on, the prism reflections had shown him what true hope had been. And they would show him more again and again, but time will tell when to hold and when to let go. He could just keep it going a little longer, but only moments of the life left to him will be when those colors will just swallow him up and allow him wings in his dreams…

~00~

In their London safe house in mid-afternoon some time after Christmas Day, Magneto and Xavier sat quietly, drinking some tea. While things have been quieter in Europe, their trip there had been fraught with many dangers that it was lucky they survived. It had been difficult to leave the country, but with Xavier's powers of persuasion and false passports, he and Magneto safely left on a ship bound for England, a country filled with bittersweet memories for them both. While settling easily into the busy life of London as people fleeing the oppression, they knew that life was about to change when the laws did as well. And it wouldn't be long now before England and the Commonwealth joined the herd in expelling or incarcerating the mutants.

Magneto moved a curtain next to him aside cautiously as he put his cup down, aware that they could be watched. "Do you think Wolverine can do it?" he asked Xavier over their picturesque scene, seeming like the millionth time he did.

Xavier smiled at him warmly, feeling their friendship change for the first time in years and not minding the question asked again. "Yes, I have faith in Logan. He has yet to fail me."

"And if he does?" Magneto turned cynical and mean, releasing the lacy fabric from his hands. "We cannot allow humanity to lead us on, Charles. We must fight!"

"And we will, old friend, we will," Xavier reassured Magneto. Putting his hand across the table and resting it on the arm where a tattooed number stood, Xavier smiled. "Logan is capable of setting things right, I promise you. He and Danielle, along with the Mortimers, will start us on the pathway of hope when obstacles are out of the way."

Magneto muttered something about interfering Roger Mortimer and the whoring of Danielle Mitchell Ellis, but stopped himself before his words turned too bitter. Friends were few and far between in these bloody days, even those who stayed with him the longest, like Mystique. Mystique had been missing from his life since her sudden transformation back into a human because of his callousness, but Magneto was sure that she was out there somewhere, a mutant once more as he was, and working against them or for them. But one thing was certain though: mutants and humans had to work together to bring out the common good and bring the evil brought upon them out.

In a rare moment of weakness and vulnerability, Magneto allowed himself to take Xavier's hands, still resting on his arm. He held it tightly, willing the words of Wyatt to release his mind from the doubt that always plagued him in the days since his renewal of powers.

_These bloody days have broken my heart.__  
__My lust, my youth, did them depart.__  
__And blind desire of estate,__  
__Who hastes to climb seeks to revert.__  
__Of truth, _circa Regna tonat.

* * *

**The poem Magneto was thinking about (above) was written by Thomas Wyatt the Elder around 1536, about the time when Anne Boleyn, Queen of England (and second wife of Henry VIII), was accused of treason, adultery and incest and sentenced to death via beheading. **


	25. Masquerade

Danielle woke up with a start early in the morning, clenching her blanket in a fit of pain as her stomach flipped up and down like a roller coaster. Two long days had passed since the day of the rally and releasing Logan, but the consequences had yet to be felt on her end. It had been too quiet at home, keeping Logan and the children inside and away from the busy prying eyes, but she still had the feelings of dread in her heart. Two days…two days…she continued with her routine, jumping at the same shadows as before and avoiding people inside and out. While lessons had been ongoing for the children and growls common from Logan, nothing could defeat another bad feeling inside her mind.

Gingerly allowing her body to experiences temperatures outside the blanket, Danielle shivered as she got up. While she had allowed Logan the chore of keeping the fire going in the basement when she could no longer wake at all hours, she still could feel the cold seeping through the carpeted floors. She inched her feet into slippers, still clenching onto her stomach as it released the strange tension in and out every so often. She walked to the bathroom, still hearing the light snores of Riley and Michael with some relief (happy for the privacy), and closed the door behind her. She then stuck her hand under her nightgown when the heaviness dropped there, feeling heavy blood immediately drip from her fingers and onto the floor.

There was no ordinary blood, Danielle knew. She was finally caught in her secretive acts and would no longer have to bear humiliation anymore.

Except Danielle felt no remorse, no shame either. She did not want the secret to be freed just yet. She had to keep on going with life, like nothing had happened, and see to herself when she had the opportunity. Even if the hospitals did not accept mutants anymore and would turn her in for money (especially in the case of a lost baby), there was always a way to clean herself up without a person knowing, with hush money always available to her.

And this soul Danielle was about to lose again was a grief she could not bear anymore.

~00~

Somewhat happy in his motel room in the morning, Peter still anxiously waited for the things he asked Dean Ferris for some two days previous. While his lovely mistress was out shopping for dinner and expected him gone by the time she came back, Peter was free to indulge in things he wanted to do, if he had the legal means to do it. No word had reached him in the meantime, no plans had been made yet either, even at work. However, working in the office during those days made the waiting unbearable, like _He_ had a hand in the dealings. Peter was sure that Dean went to Him first, but could not be sure. He would ensure Dean the paperwork if it was in their interests (as far as Peter guessed), but getting more than Logan might not be part of the plans…

Suddenly, the phone rang. When Peter jumped for it, he saw that it was Dean Ferris again. He answered enthusiastically for once, asking immediately when things will be ready.

"I just got the faxes, hot off the press," Ferris replied just as cheerfully, papers flapping in his hands. "The judge easily granted the warrants of arrest and the transportation paperwork for Michael Jayden and Riley Logan Ellis. The van for pick-up will be gassed up and ready to roll within the hour. The bus to take them west is ready for after we get them."

"Logan and Danielle too?" Peter asked impatiently.

"Working on it as we speak," Ferris reassured Peter. "I don't know when it'll happen, but it will. And when it does, all of them will go. It'll be the perfect act in the memory of your late cousin, don't you think, Peter?"

Peter was shocked by the statement, taken back that his glory was soon to be smashed into a thousand pieces. Sitting back on the bed with silence, he pondered upon wheat Ferris had said. _Yes_, it would be in good memory of Leon, but not the way he wanted it to be. Peter wanted this, the greatest of his achievements, to be associated to _him_, not to his dead cousin. He wanted to be the man who rose higher than Leon Ellis, who was able to wipe the mutants away from the planet, _not_ be the man who continued the job Leon started. Peter Ellis wanted to be his _own_ man, not the lackey of another, and one still sitting in his grave, mind you.

"Peter? Peter, you still there?" Awkwardly, Ferris inquired about the silence, but it was short-lived. Peter snapped back quickly.

"What?!" Peter retorted as he stood back up, practically yelling into the phone. "What are you waiting for?! Get those papers for the adults and get the van prepared now. Gather five or more strong men who can handle mutants and could restrain them and another two to power up that chair when it's delivered. Wait for me to get to the office. We have a trip to make."

"Yes, _Sir_," Ferris replied, hanging up the phone to execute the orders to avoid a confrontation on the phone.

This left Peter tired, but relieved as he pocketed the phone. While he felt the angry adrenaline leave his body, he felt saddened somehow. He had his fun with Danielle. It was great to see her after the funerals of Leon and Mary, twirling his deals in her face to keep to safe and to take advantage of the widow who had no choice because she was a mutant (as well as her children). He lived his fantasies of long ago, until office work beckoned him back to the city, and had threatened the woman enough times to make her obedient. Now, everything had changed. The mutant Danielle had pined for since his arrival at Xavier's years before had returned from his cave, and with it, the chances of Peter ever winning her heart.

It was a long road to achieve that too, Peter had to admit. He had leverage to use against Danielle, lots of it, and was willing to use it in order to get his way. And Danielle had submitted eventually, when her struggles stopped and the serum was not needed to keep her still. Even after trying to hang her, just as her mother did to herself, made her very weak to his will. She loved her children to distraction and was willing to die for them, but allowing Logan to come into her home was enough. It was the break between the two.

Peter reached into a drawer, pulling out his gun. After loading it, he stuffed it into his pocket with the phone, forcing himself to forget the woman of his sweet dreams, the one with the hazel and red eyes and the lean body, contorting its leftover pregnancy weight in perfect angles. He _had_ to let Danielle go, he just had to, just as he did with Mary. There were other women. Besides, Logan had been too easy to toy with. Her children were another story.

After all, Peter reasoned, revenge was a dish best served cold. And it was time for Danielle's comeuppance now, years in the making.

~00~

After cleaning up after herself, Danielle walked back to her bedroom and breathed slowly in front of her vanity mirror, in and out. Dressed normally and stuffed with enough padding that won't show the blood, she practiced smiling in front of Logan and the children, but it was wane, even if the three were sleeping still and not able to see it. She felt smaller somehow, like almost everything was draining out of her life, but dismissed the idea entirely. She could act her way out of her problems and make them disappear, just as she always did.

In the distance, she heard Riley and Michael wake up with excitement. Although the two were behind on their lessons due to many extenuating circumstances, they were alert and sharp enough to know that, when breakfast was over, they had to recite and study more. It would keep them busy, Danielle reasoned, and with Mae a phone call away, she could slip out the door, have her sister-in-law watch their lessons and it'll be all over without a trace. There will be no dying baby inside of her, no blood and no evidence of Peter Ellis ever being with her. It was too smooth, a plan that could not fail.

However, Danielle's mind was alert. While her body sought to control the pain throbbing on and off, on top of old wounds and sicknesses from long ago, she heard sounds in her head, like a train coming. While there was no light signaling its arrival though, she saw that the same type of disaster was coming. She shook her head, trying to clear it from the chaos, but it wouldn't. The same wave of power she felt when Jean urged her to handle the bomb came back full force, striking her head with a sting. It almost felt like Jay was with her again, combing their powers and creating a force that could not be broken.

Unbidden, Danielle felt her eyes turn cold, but she could not see the color in the mirror. She knew that everything in her bedroom was levitating, almost similar to the time they showed Magneto and the Professor all those years ago, before she was admitted to the school. She even felt energy vibrating through her fingertips in their colors, bidding her to use them for a greater good.

"No," Danielle whispered, trying to will herself to be almost human again, to be the mutant named Ghost and not the Poltergeist, the combination of her and Jay's energies, the Phantom. "No, this can't be. No, no, no…"

And suddenly, it was gone. Everything dropped gently back into place, unbroken and controlled. The energy tingled and then disappeared from Danielle's fingertips. Even her eyes went back to their usual shade of hazel, but with red lines in them, like she had been crying or was tired. She rubbed them, but the wrinkled puffiness stayed. To hide it, she reached for some makeup, not knowing that it had been months since she dressed up nicely, hiding the obvious signs of aging she could stop, but refused to.

_Let nature take its course and I'll take mine._

When Danielle applied enough to make herself appear natural, she left her room fairly satisfied. However, when she reached the open room before her bedroom with all the books, the room in which she, Michael and Riley had almost died in, she stopped. She heard it again, the train in the distance, but this time, it was closer. She closed her eyes, willing her presence to reach far, but was slammed into a wall. She jumped back, opening her eyes. Shaking heavily, she held onto a bookcase, gasping for breath. She had to take control, she knew, but there was little more she _could_ do but fight…and fight to the very end.

Peter Ellis was coming. He had about ten men with him in a van, ready to strike. Danielle did not know who he was taking today, but it would be one, some or all of them. And it was the first journey to the camps.

* * *

**Yes, a couple of chapters in a day and more to come, when it's all edited! :D I do want to warn everyone though...the next few chapters might seem a little graphic and might not fit into the rating I have it on, which currently is T. If you feel that it should be M, please let me know. I didn't write it so it's for mature audiences only and it fit into the T category, according to this website. So...please let me know via reviews or PM me if you have a different opinion.**

**Again, thank you all for your support and for reading my story. :) I appreciate it.**


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